Game of Thrones? I Just Wanna Go Home!
by anoceaninthesun
Summary: Dying young is always unfortunate. Arden Stein blames her high-maintenance roommate. Now she's thrust unexpectedly into Game of Thrones, trapped in the body of a direwolf, and taken in by the Starks and a snarky man-whore. If the gods want her to play hero, they've got a funny way of showing it.
1. Chapter 1

**You know those SI/OC stories where the person who is dumped into the fictional world is always conveniently knowledgeable about their new world and knows the characters front, back and sideways because they always end up in a place where they're a mega-fan? Welp. That deux ex machina won't happen here. That's just not very fun imo. I wouldn't call this a SI fic, because the heroine is genuinely not modeled after me or anyone I know, but it's definitely a story where the OC is minimally familiar with GoT at best…Not even a casual fan, really.**

… **Look, she basically is aware that it** _ **exists**_ **and that Jon Snow is hot.** _ **She knows nothing**_ **and will be stumbling her way through the journey as she goes.**

 **I don't own GoT and apologies to the creator, George R. R. Martin, who hates fanfics, but ah well…**

 **Summary:** Most people living a mediocre life would be happy for a change, a reboot if you will. But I got more than that. My untimely death led me to be _reborn_. But it's not that simple. I now live in a fictional world, one I barely know two licks about, may I add. Not to mention, I'm not exactly on two legs this time around. How good are my chances for survival, trapped in the body of a direwolf? And if getting home's not an option, can I at least become human again? Or stop kicking my leg every time a handsome guy scratches behind my ear?

* * *

Situational awareness is important.

I know that. _I know that_. Which is why, whenever possible, I do my best to be absolutely, well, situationally aware! I thought I was being careful when I made an ice cream run to the only convenience store open late on a Sunday, just so my ungrateful roommate could have her obligatory Rocky Road. Because, she _wouldn't dare_ go anywhere when _Game of Thrones_ was due to be on in less than fifteen minutes.

It was her ongoing obsession for quite a while now. Never mind that the convenience mart wasn't that far, she needed time to mentally prepare herself! _Her words_ , screamed shrilly at me. Watching _Game of Thrones_ wasn't just a hobby, it was "a way of life" and Jean, well…she didn't really seem to have much of a life, but that was beside the point. She dedicated an entire hour before the show was due to come on, getting herself ready and performing her Sunday night ritual.

Everything must be perfect, or the viewing experience would be ruined. Again, the words she screamed shrilly when I asked her why the hell she didn't prepare for the fact that she'd devoured all the ice cream in the freezer the week before when her monthly friend was visiting, and that sooner or later it would need to be replaced.

She had a whole week to take her ass down to Walmart and pick up a new tub, but no. Typical Jean, waiting 'til the last minute. Be it a grocery run or a term paper…procrastination was something I could count on from her. I was the pragmatic one, the "dork" who planned ahead. But you know what? My GPA thanked me for it! Jean's, much like her credit card after a shopping trip to the outlet, cried.

Anyway, being the decently good friend I am, I volunteered myself to make the walk to the store and back. Why not? It wasn't that far, and it would give me an excuse to get out of the apartment and away from Jean during her prep-hour countdown because quite frankly, it really creeped me out.

To be honest, like full frontal, never-have-I-ever honest…I wasn't that into _Game of Thrones_. Like at all. Actually, I'd never even seen a full episode. I caught glimpses of it when Jean was curled on the couch, sobbing over some character that had died—which honestly seemed to happen on a weekly basis—but I had zero idea what was going on and I couldn't immediately put names to faces on the screen when Jean tried to rehash details to me.

I mean, she showed me the guy that played the main character, Jon Snow, and I admit he was pretty freaking hunky, but still wasn't enough incentive for me to watch the show. Plus, I was really more of a book girl. I heard there were books the show was adapted from. Maybe I'd try reading those. Some day. Look, maybe deep down I was just being a contrarian.

Jean begged me constantly to try it, but I always had an excuse ready every Sunday. I was tired. I needed to get ahead on some assignments. I had a date—she snorted at that, and watched me leave with a knowing look, like she could just tell I was going to drive myself across town to the milkshake place, and slurp down a malt alone. But really, I just wasn't interested. I didn't think a show where someone was constantly dying bloody for no apparent reason was my cup of tea. I didn't want to hurt Jean's feelings though. So I stayed allusive. She continued to try to recruit me to the _Game of Thrones_ cult, and so it went. All this leads me back to my first point, in a roundabout way.

I try to be situationally aware. And usually I am. I had the bag containing Jean's pint of ice cream and some sherbet for myself safely in hand. I was approaching the crosswalk when my pocket vibrated with an incoming text. Expectedly, it was Jean urging me to hurry up. I sighed and shot her back a quick text to say I was right around the corner and she needed to learn the virtue of patience—and some appreciation wouldn't hurt, I tacked on.

Little did I know my situational awareness was about to fail me…in epic proportions. I should have seen it. I should have felt it. But as I stuck one foot in front of the other, reading Jean's whiny texts, I somehow completely missed the large truck barreling towards me until it was close enough for me to see the driver's horrified face as he honked the loud horn.

The headlights were blinding, and I hardly knew what had happened when I became airborne, my body landing with a sickening thud several feet away. I rolled across the road to a stop until I was face down. This was bad, I thought dimly. The ice cream was a splattered mess all over the street… Jean was gonna bitch.

I'm not sure if it was the shock of the thing that caused me to be unaware of how broken my body was. I could hear people screaming and gasping in horror. A man's voice frantically talking about not being able to stop, and someone speaking to who I assumed was a 911 operator. All that was just…too much to deal with. I wanted to rest. I wanted to be back in my bed, hiding away from Jean's weirdness with my pint of sherbet.

* * *

 **I debated about posting this because my knowledge of the series is still incomplete, I have so many other stories already going, I'm a full time grad school student, and the list goes on...but I'm learning fast, I'm finally balancing my updating, and I plan to post more chapters to this whenever grad school permits. I already have chapter 2 well underway. Should be ready within days, time permitted.**

 **Please let me know if you think this little project is worth continuing. This was sort of a short test chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The start of the adventure in Westeros begins now, and all the crap that's to come… Wondering how she'll manage? Honestly, so am I. XD Please remember to review to let me know what you think so far (after you read of course). I'm sort of a casual fan, if that, and I want to get everything right in terms of characters, world-building, etc.**

 **Romance eventually. Because if you're familiar with my writing at all, you know I'm afflicted with a curse where I literally can't write** _ **anything**_ **unless I put romance in it. I really should find some help…Anyway, Jon and Robb are on the table, and maybe Theon? I don't even know. We'll see. It'll be a while. Oh, obviously I'm not talking about bestiality, because just _nooo_. I don't wanna ruin the surprise, so just go with it for now.**

* * *

I woke up feeling warm, like I was under a fleece blanket. I guess sleeping in today wouldn't be so bad…I didn't have to get to work today anyway and my Monday classes didn't start until the afternoon. I sighed, feeling content all cozy in my bed.

Until something warm, heavy and wet dropped down on my head. Ugh…what? I felt it again, a persistent pressure on the top of my head. Unfamiliar yet oddly soothing. Hm… Sort of like a little massage. That was okay, I guess. I was just drifting back into sleep, when my stomach growled loudly, nearly startling me. I whined, not wanting to get up for food when I was _so_ cozy. But could I really sleep comfortably with persistent hunger pains?

I started to crawl, to make my way out of bed and pray Jean left _something_ in the fridge. Wow, was my room warm…did Jean leave the heat on last night? Last night…that was when suddenly, flashes came back to me. Jean begging me to go out and get her some ice cream. Blaring white lights. Excruciating pain.

Oh. My. God.

What the hell? There's no way that was a dream. There's also no way I survived being run down by an eighteen-wheeler.

But I was warm, snug, and most definitely not feeling broken. Or, well, dead.

Okay, deep breaths. There's a logical explanation to all this. Maybe.

…...

Well, I'm drawing a blank. I don't know what the hell is going on or where I am, and it'd be easier to concentrate on the problem at hand, if I wasn't so. damn. hungry!

I moaned in frustration, only to feel myself being lifted. I yelped, scared and surprised, as what I'm almost positive are teeth gently dug into the back of my neck and set me down against something warm. I could feel other bodies (?) squirming against mine. Whines and quiet suckling. Wait, wha—? A deep, guttural noise that came from above me shook my whole body, and then I was shoved against something warm, but malleable…skin. And there was what I'm pretty sure is a teat in my face. Oh. Wow. I sort of thought this wouldn't happen till my bachelorette party at least.

The thought flashes through my mind that I am most definitely _not_ in my own room, or even a hospital. Am I in a coma? One where I'm a baby again in my own mind? It's not like I really remembered what it was like to nurse. And my mom pretty much told us as soon as she _could_ wean my brother and I from that, we were on the bottle. She wasn't really big on breast-feeding.

Somehow, this felt…different than what I guess I'd expect. But I was so hungry, and instinct just kind of took over. I latched on and sucked gingerly. Warm milk flowed into my mouth pretty steadily. This is such a trippy experience. I'm twenty years old and breastfeeding. Wow.

But the more I drank, the more I felt calm and full. Soon, I felt the nipple slipping out of my mouth as I yawned, widely. I was so drowsy…even though I'd just gotten up after who knows how long.

I felt the other bodies on either side of me settling down as well. I guess nursing does that. I remembered seeing fussy babies being nursed in public who settled right down and went to sleep as soon as they were full.

Mm…guess I really am a baby again. At least for now. Never mind how improbable or weird that thought it.

I'm…so tired.

* * *

Time passed gradually, with me still confused and trying to figure out if this was really happening or if I was in a coma somewhere and having an incredibly elaborate dream.

What I _did_ know, was the part where I nursed was the _least_ trippy part of my experience.

I squealed as sharp little teeth yanked on my ear. I turned and nipped at the offender, a wriggling little body of grey fluff that belonged to a wolf cub. Yep, that's right. As far as I know, I'm shrunken down to a little wolf pup that's only just recently strong enough to stand. There are six other pups, plus a _huge_ wolf, which I'm guessing is their—our—mother, who watches over us.

Don't get me wrong. I'm totally a nature lover. I cared about the environment. I volunteered some of my weekends to clean up the beach, I signed petitions saying that wolves were an important part of the ecosystem and should not be needlessly killed…I donated to wildlife sanctuaries. I was even someone who, once upon a time as a little girl, thought I'd grow up to be a game warden, protecting animals from evil poachers. Then I grew up a little and my parents convinced me that love for animals wouldn't pay my bills, so I went to college and worked hard and landed a cushy job interning as a junior editor at a big publishing house. But still, I was someone who cared.

That didn't mean that I was okay with this…whatever _this_ is. I had taken philosophy and religion courses. I was familiar with the concept of reincarnation, and I thought it was sort of cool. Instead of black and white, there could be grey.

So your soul still wasn't ready to descend to the great beyond? No problem! You could be reborn and get another chance to rack up enough brownie points to go to the good place when your new life ended.

I mean I guess I should say I always thought it sounded cool _in theory_. I never put much thought into how strongly I believed in that. I didn't think I'd be…facing these circumstances anytime soon. I thought I'd have a little more time to prepare, damn it!

Now, though, one of my siblings—dear niblets, it felt weird to say that when I know I'm talking about a wolf puppy—was pulling harshly on my ear and being a damn bully. Mama Wolf picked him up by the scruff and sat him roughly to the side of the little den we called home. Hah! I did the wolf-equivalent of a snicker. He got put in time out.

He was one of the largest of us, almost entirely grey, with golden eyes, and he had a tendency to play rough. I don't think he meant it though—I was no expert in dog, um, wolf behavior, but he seemed to just want to play. Unfortunately for me, I was one of the smallest. And that meant that when it was play time, which was always ever since the litter started becoming mobile, I was getting knocked around a lot.

There was only one other pup smaller than me, a white one with red eyes. He was quiet though. I don't think he'd ever even so much as whined, and he tended to keep more to himself. He, and the silver-furred female pup that was docile, were my favorites. I knew they'd never push me around. So when the others started roughhousing I tried to stick close to one of them, in the hopes that I'd be left alone.

But inevitably, I was always tackled and pinned by one of the more aggressive and playful members of the litter. Sometimes I'd offer up feeble retaliation but usually I just waited for Mama Wolf to come to my rescue and break it up, like a wuss.

It was so painfully obvious who were the real wolves and who was just the dorky human girl pretending to be. Initially, when I'd opened my bleary eyes—because this whole thing was so immersive I had been a blind and helpless pup for the first few weeks of my new life—on top of being wholly confused by the butterballs rolling around and getting to their feet around me, I had fleetingly wondered if maybe, any of them were really humans too.

But as time went on, I was started to think I was all by my lonesome. The others all had their own personalities, and there was a frightening amount of intelligence in Mama Wolf's eyes, but I don't think they were peoples.

That thought was pretty lonely. For all I know, I'd never see another person again. I'd spend my time as a wolf, and when I get old enough be left to fend for myself or find another pack to join. Which was strange now that I thought of it. Weren't mother wolves usually in a pack? Seems strange she'd be on her own. I knew wolves worked as a unit to raise their young, hunt, and protect each other. Yet here we were, seven pups all alone with our mother.

I have to say, Mama Wolf was an exemplary single mom. She took care of all of us and did her own hunting, kept us safe in our little den. In fact that's where she'd chased us to when she left to go out this morning. We were just getting old enough to explore the outside world, and wow, are things different when you're not even a foot tall and seeing through the eyes of a wolf cub.

But today she'd ushered us inside with a stern warning growl when two bold members of the litter had tried to follow her. It was my large grey brother and my wild, independent sister. They always seemed like the first to want to try things.

Usually, when Mama Wolf left it was to hunt. She never went far, because she was always back within a few hours. I think so anyway, sort of hard to keep track of time in a wolf body and all.

I waited in boredom, playing with my docile sister for a while, and then snuggling down for a nap in a puppy pile with the others when that got boring. I was still getting use to this body. The others were fine, but for me, energy came in bursts, and then I was beat and collapsing for a nap.

I don't know how long I was out for when I heard the others yipping excitedly. I stirred, standing clumsily. I guess that meant Mama Wolf was back. I scrambled to the mouth of the cave, waiting to see her huge, lumbering form in the distance dragging the carcass of her latest kill.

We weren't fully weaned, so I'd never actually tried whatever she brought back. Raw meat wasn't all that appealing a snack, given that I'd never been a fan before now. I'll take a steak, well done please!

Sure enough, Mama came dragging herself over the leaf-covered hill, but something was wrong…she was stumbling towards us, a giant rack of antlers impaling her side.

I screamed, but I'm sure since I didn't exactly have human vocal chords anymore, it came out as a distressed whine. The others ran towards her, and I followed reluctantly. I had a bad feeling… these pups weren't strong or independent enough to be on their own. _I_ wasn't strong or independent enough to be on my own…

Mama Wolf collapsed right then and there, her breathing labored. Uh-oh. I ran up to her, nudging her and pawing at her face Lion King Style. Never had I sympathized more with Simba than I did in this moment.

The others were nuzzling her sides and whining. I think they knew something wasn't right either. She opened her maw and her big tongue licked my face one more time. I would have found it gross any other time, but I had gotten used to it. Her breathing lessened, and then stopped. Honestly, it was a surprise she'd even managed to make it back at all. The power of a mother's love.

I sat back on my haunches and huffed. Well. We were all officially screwed. I don't think any of the others knew how to hunt, and even the rowdiest of the litter wouldn't last long out here. If this was a coma-dream I'd like to wake up now, thanks. It was seriously starting to suck.

The others curled in on themselves under the body, but Red-Eyes wandered away, sniffing the ground. It wasn't a good idea. We stood even less of a chance separately. I followed after him, shouting at him to come back to the group. It came out as a bunch of high-pitched barks. Frustrated, I pulled his tail.

He yelped and snatched it away. _Now you're just being stubborn,_ I said. Well, whined. I watched his ears prick and his head fly in the direction that our mother had come from. I cocked my head, listening too. Animals always had better hearing, right? I was somewhat surprised when I heard the sound of horses trotting along. Horses? Out here? I'd never heard so much of a whinny before. Wild horses were unlikely.

That meant…

I started to get excited. People!

I yipped, spinning in joy. Then, it struck me that I was yipping because I couldn't speak. Because I currently was not a person. I was a wolf. And defenseless wolf pups and strange people didn't mix. I hurriedly looked for somewhere to hide. They were getting closer. I could actually smell them on the wind now, a mix of scents.

Panicking, I dove under the same rotted log my white brother had taken refuge under. Just in time, too. A large procession of people came into view, and the first thing they did was examine the carcass of my wolf mother. They ignored my brothers and sisters for the moment, who were all still huddled close, staring up at the people in wonder. Seriously? These wolves had _no situational awareness_! That's big, guys. Take it from me.

I was exasperated by how they were calmly sitting there as a large man with long hair tied back carefully examined the body. There was something odd about the way he was dressed. About the way they were _all_ dressed, actually. Like…all renaissance, but not. Most of them were wearing thick fur cloaks and leathered clothes. The animal lover in me, ironically covered in fur, instantly bristled.

A bunch of other men came to stand around the dead wolf too, the youngest being a boy who probably wasn't more than ten.

"It's a freak!" One of the teenage boys said.

Hmph! I was surprised that I was pretty offended by that remark. That was my mom he was talking ab—Wait, well it wasn't my mom. Not my real one. But it was the wolf who had nursed me, kept me warm and stopped the others from wailing on my ass, so, in this…place…she was the closest thing I had to a mom. A low growl rose in my chest, but my red-eyed brother prodded me with his nose, telling me to be quiet.

"It's a direwolf." The kneeling man corrected. He shared a look with a white-haired man standing back with one of the horses. And then it hit me that these guys had accents. Not American accents either. "Tough old beast." He said, removing the antlers.

I guess he was marveling over the strength it must have taken Mama Wolf to drag herself back, the same way I had. Okay, so I was probably half-dead somewhere, having an incredibly vivid dream about being a wolf pup who had just been orphaned, and on top of that my subconscious throws in these renaissance guys with accents? What. The. Hell. The medicine cocktail I must be on right now to make this dream…

And what the hell was a dire wolf. I'd heard of a dire situation but um, I'd never heard any species of wolf with that name. Although, funnily enough I'm pretty sure I had heard that term used before. "There are no direwolves south of the wall." Another teenager piped up. Hm. Were they on a hunting trip or something? And what wall? Was there maybe a game reserve somewhere with other wolves? Heeey, maybe wolves were protected here!

"Well, now there are five." Yet another teenager said.

 _Hah. Shows what you know_. I thought. _More like seven_.

He looked sort of familiar. I crept as close to the opening of our hiding spot as I dared to, and squinted. Wait. What the fuck is that actor guy doing here?! I blinked, shook my head, tilted it slightly to the right. But the longer I stared the more I was convinced that this was the guy from _Game of Thrones_. Um, what was his real name? K…Kyle something?

Maybe I should have paid more attention to Jean's rants after all. Just what the hell was my subconscious trying to tell me, anyway? If I ever woke up I should totally watch _Game of Thrones_? Message received brain. Message received.

"You want to hold it?" The curly haired Jon Snow's actor's lookalike picked up one of my brothers and handed him off to the young boy.

 _Hey, put him down!_ I whined. _You can't just go picking up wolf pups, what do you think this is?!_

But I quieted my protests when I saw the boy carefully cradling my brother in his arms. "Where will they go?" he asked quietly. "Their mother's dead." My ears dropped. When he said it out loud any chances for survival seemed incredibly bleak.

"They don't belong down here." The white haired man added.

Okay, so then where do we belong? Take us to that wolf reserve beyond the "wall". Maybe someone can get us fostered.

"Better a quick death." Said the imposing man. "They won't last long without their mother." He stood to his full height—did I mention this was a big guy?—and drew a shining sword from his side.

Oh, hold the hell up…!

The one that had called Mama Wolf a freak was only too happy to oblige.

"Right. Give it here." He snatched my brother from the little boy's arms and they both yelped.

"NO!" The boy cried, reaching for the wolf pup.

My brother squawked his protest, flailing around.

 _Run, run away!_ I wanted to bark to the rest of them, but I think my brother sensed that. He nipped at my face and growled. He was saying not to give us away. I looked into his red eyes indignantly. _Listen. I'm just trying to help the others out. If by some miracle we live I'm teaching all of you situational awareness!_

"Put away your blade." Said the boy with the curly auburn hair. He was looking at the guy holding my brother at knifepoint with clear disdain.

At least somebody's sane around here! I thought with relief.

"I take orders from your father, not you." The would-be-puppy-murdering asshole said smugly.

Not giving up, the little boy whirled to the man with the sword, his eyes pleading. "Please father!"

I melted a little. He was so cute. With his shaggy hair and big eyes. Um, the human boy, not my brother. But I think the wolf pups are all super cute too.

He looked down at his son briefly before turning away. "I'm sorry, Bran."

 _That's just freaking cold, guy!_

"Lord Stark?" the Jon Snow guy asked quietly.

Lord Stark, who I didn't think too highly of at this moment, turned.

"There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children." I held my breath. Okay, okay…I see where you're going with this! I could work with this. Just please tell me that asshole with the knife wasn't one of the Stark children. "The direwolf is the sigil of your House." he continued. "They were meant to have them."

Lord Stark seemed to think about that. Maybe he saw murdering defenseless pups in cold blood wasn't the answer. Everyone looked at him expectantly. Even the dude that was about to knife my brother froze, lowering the blade slightly.

Finally, he said, "You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves." Ah, gotta add that little bit of morbidity to dampen the parade, don't you?

The little boy, Bran, didn't seem to care. He was grinning from ear to ear as he reclaimed the wolf pup that had been taken from him. Something told me that would be his.

I puffed a long breath in relief as that crazy guy put his knife back at his waist. Jon Snow—I was just gonna call him that for now—began picking up pups and handing him to the other young man that was there. Not the one that had been eager to kill us, the _other_ guy that had told him not to. But then my jaw dropped when the guy I had thought was sane—and kinda cute—handed them right off to the asshole! What in the—well, he seemed content to hold them for now. I guess he was serious when he said he only took orders from Lord Stark, so maybe we were safe.

Jon handed off two more pups to the guy with the reddish curls.

"What about you?" Bran asked Jon, clearly concerned.

"I'm not a Stark." Jon replied, a little sadly. "Get on."

Bran turned to leave, his new pup, my brother, clutched tightly in his arms.

Snow started to follow. I had turned to ask the red-eyed pup if we should reveal ourselves now that the coast was clear. But that little sneaker was already gone!

He had crept out and was whining softly. Jon Snow turned, looking somewhat surprised.

The auburn haired guy saw that he'd stopped and turned. "What is it?" he asked a little impatiently.

Jon Snow bent down and picked up the white pup by his scruff staring in surprise.

"The runt of the litter." chuckled that snarky guy, "That one's yours, Snow." Jon continued to look into the pup's red eyes in awe. I had a feeling he was feeling that getting a pup when he had only expected there to be five, exactly enough for all the Stark kids, was symbolic. I thought it was ironic if nothing else.

They started to leave again, and I was panicking.

No! All my siblings were leaving me! I couldn't stay; I didn't stand a chance like this. I whined loudly, clumsily pattering out from underneath the rotted log. Jon Snow turned around. "Another one?" he whispered, bending down and picking me up by the scruff too.

But picking me up meant he fell behind. Again.

"Oi, Snow, stop pussyfoot—" The two young men turned, one looking a bit surprised and the other exasperated to see him holding me.

"Great, another little runt freak." sneered the one who'd wanted to kill us.

Hey! I yipped in indignation.

"He's telling you to go bugger yourself." The man with the curls said.

 _She_ , I silently corrected. Well, at least I wouldn't die here, alone. I gave my red-eyed brother a puppy grin, and he returned it. After that we rode in saddlebags attached to Jon Snow's horse. As the two runts we didn't take up much room.

The others were slightly squeezed together, riding in the saddlebags of the guy who didn't seem so bad and the mean guy who thought we were freaks. Well, except one of my brothers. He was lucky enough to hitch a ride with the youngest boy, who kept him snuggled in his arm as he rode.

My heart was pounding hard as I peeked out of the leather flap to see we were riding through the gates of a fortress. I'm pretty sure my little mouth was open as I gaped. I felt my brother squirm and his head popped out beside mine. He didn't look half as impressed, but his red eyes were trained on the group of people who seemed to be waiting on the party's return. He licked his maw lazily and burrowed back into the saddle bag.

We stopped, greeted by a red-haired woman and two young girls. One of them was almost an exact clone of the woman, except with no wrinkles and a vibrant, pretty face. The other had dark hair and a curious, round little face. I bet they were Lord Stark's wife and two more of the kids we were promised to.

The younger girl rushed forward as soon as the men had dismounted. She ran right to Bran and grinned. "Did you see it? Were his innards everywhere?"

"Arya!" The woman chastised sternly.

This _Arya_ seemed perfectly unconcerned.

"Mother," Bran smiled, walking to the red haired woman along with his father. Jon said I did well. And look what we've brought!" He held the puppy up into the woman's face, so close she almost touched noses with him. "They're direwolves! One for each of us!" he beamed proudly.

The woman nodded slowly, smiling in that thin way moms did when they wanted to tell their children they couldn't have or do something, but were stopped by societal convention. The mini me girl had come over, and even though she hesitated at first, when she was given one of the pups to hold, she started smiling, petting the soft fur.

"Direwolves!" Arya cried happily. "Even Jon's got one." This made her particularly happy. Jon smiled hesitantly.

"Why don't you take them and feed them?" Lord Stark suggested. "You can show Rickon."

Me and all the other pups were gathered up and hustled inside. I was being jostled in the arms of Arya now. She had me and one of my sisters in her arms. The one that always played too rough.

We burst through the wooden doors of what I guess was a large kitchen, and the cooks looked up in surprise at the sight of a bunch of kids holding wolf pups.

"We've come to feed our new pups!" Bran announced. I don't know when, or where he came from, but somewhere along the line a little boy with shaggy reddish hair had joined us. He was practically a baby to me, and he was reaching for one of the puppies the mean guy was holding, chanting, "Shaggy dog!" He probably _did_ think were dogs.

We were all sat down with a large bowl of minced meat mixed with goat's milk, from what I heard one of the cooks saying. It looked like slop to me, and I sniffed at it disdainfully, but the others dove right in. Yuck!

"That one's not eating." I looked up and everyone was watching me expectantly. Mentally sighing, I nudged my way through, and took a small bite. I was planning to hold it in my mouth, expecting my pallet to immediately reject it. But to my shock and horror it wasn't so bad. I think it was the wolf.

But I hadn't been fed in over a day and this was probably all I was gonna get. I ate, trying not scarf it down like the others while listening to the humans talk. What I wouldn't give for them to understand me.

"We've got to decide who gets what pup now." The oldest red-haired boy was saying. "Jon's getting the white one with red eyes, and that one there seems fond of Bran." He pointed to the reddish-brown wolf pup that Bran had refused to let go of the whole way here.

"Well, I think I'd like this one…" the red-haired girl said timidly, stroking the back of the most docile she-wolf, the light silver one with the sandy patches in her fur. "I'm going to call her Lady."

Arya rolled her eyes. "That's so like you, Sansa!" she scoffed. "They're hunters, right? I want to name mine something fierce." She fell silent as she thought. "Oh, what's the name of that lady-warrior we learned about in lessons?" she paused for a beat. "Nymeria!" she exclaimed proudly.

"What about you, Robb?" Jon asked the auburn-haired boy.

Robb. So that was his name. Now I could put a name to a face at least.

Robb shrugged in response. "Doesn't matter I suppose."

"You're no fun." Laughed the last boy. My least favorite. "Take that grey one." He pointed to the largest of the litter.

"Why the grey one?" Robb asked.

"He's the biggest, isn't he? You're the oldest Stark here."

Robb nodded. "Grey…" he muttered. "Maybe Grey Wind."

"Grey Wind?" Jon chuckled slightly.

"Well then, let's hear your name Snow." Robb playfully punched Jon in the arm. Jon looked down at the red-eyed pup.

"I'm thinking of calling him Ghost…"

The antagonistic boy snorted into his fist. "So let's hear the name you're giving yours, Greyjoy." Jon challenged.

Greyjoy…?

"Which one'll you choose Rickon?" Greyjoy asked instead, ignoring Jon.

"Shaggy dog! Shaggy dog!" he kept saying, hugging the coal black wolf pup with the green eyes to him.

"We know the name of Rickon's then." Bran said calmly.

It dawned on me then, that I had never really seen my own reflection. I had no idea what I looked like. Only that, I was a wolf pup. Suddenly I was hit with an insatiable curiosity. What I wouldn't give for a mirror.

"That just leaves that funny white one with the stripe." Arya said.

Funny white one with the stripe? I looked around at all the pups with their new owners. Not a single one matched that description. And every last one of the litter had been claimed except…

Oh. Hell. No.

"I suppose this one's mine then." I was abruptly lifted. Of course I barked in protest, especially when Greyjoy brought my underbelly level with his face. "A girl!" he grinned. _I've never been so violated. I don't like you. I'm going to run away from you._ I let him know. I'm sure all he heard was yapping though. "Chatty, isn't she? Maybe I'll name her Esmerelda."

"Why that name?" Arya piped up innocently.

Greyjoy smirked. "Reminds me of a Dornish girl who was visiting Winterfell once. She was chatty too. One of the best fu—" Jon quickly smacked him upside the head with a heavy glare. Robb was looking at him just as stiffly.

"One of the best lady friends…I ever made." He finished. Oh man, was I seriously stuck with this guy? I growled lightly and nipped at his fingers.

"She doesn't seem too fond of you, Theon." Robb said, clearly amused. "You've offended her."

"I would be too, if Theon were my master. Poor thing." Sansa cooed.

Theon? Maybe that was his first name.

"You lot forget I can charm any lady. A lady wolf is no exception." Theon boasted.

 _Challenge accepted._ I barked.

"I still can't think of a name for mine…" Bran whined.

Robb patted his shoulder. "It'll come to you."

I turned to Theon with a puppy glare. _And I've got a name anyway, buddy. It's Arden Stein._

"Look at her eyes, just like gems." Sansa sighed, looking at me, though she was hugging Lady happily. No luck she'd want to trade Lady for me, then.

"But they're so weird." Arya's brow scrunched.

 _Weird? Exactly what was weird about hazel brown eyes?_ That's the color they'd always been before anyway.

"One's gold and one's green." Bran peeked into my face. "I never noticed before."

 _What'd he just say?!_ Now I desperately tried to squirm away and get to a mirror.

Theon wouldn't let go, though. "I'll call her Opal." _Opal? I look like an Opal to you?_

"She a _friend_ too?" Jon asked sarcastically.

"My mother's favorite kind of stone, actually." Theon answered snidely.

I gave up trying to get away and let myself just hang there as he held me. _At least I know for damn sure I'm not named after some chick you screwed named Esmerelda._

* * *

 **I was on the fence about who Arden should even belong to. I mean I'm not wild about Theon so I almost gave one of the others two dire-wolves but then decided I'd see if I could roll with the idea of Theon getting a wolf too. Who knows, maybe having to take care of a defenseless pup would make him a better person. I'm going for a less slimy but still IC Theon.**

 **Anyway, I'm off to do homework…hurray.**

 **Don't forget to review~**


	3. Chapter 3

**Not a long chapter, but it's something. I had a small amount of free time so I churned this out.**

 **Arden/Opal gets up to more mischief and tries to continue navigating her new life in this chapter. Please remember to review and tell me how it's going so far.**

 **It's a little bit of a late warning (ehe…) but this story is rated T mainly for foul language, canon-typical violence, nudity and implied sexual content. If I need to bump the rating up eventually I will, but right now I think it's fine at T.**

 _Appirinia_ **: Nice name, first of all. And it's like you read my mind! That's ultimately the goal. Have Arden gradually come to call a "truce" and have Theon maybe become a little more compassionate through having to care for someone besides himself. I'd like a Theon redemption I think. I don't read a lot of fics where Theon's redeemed. Even in the fics where he doesn't necessarily betray the Starks, he's always written as a selfish womanizer and not much more than that. I gladly accept the challenge of giving Theon depth** _ **before**_ **all the horrible stuff. And who knows, Arden may help him out just by being a nonjudgmental friend (eventually).**

 **Btw everyone, romance won't be the focus of this story as it's more about Arden trying to help without really knowing what the hell she's doing. But that being said romance WILL be included, so if there's a pairing you'd like to see while it's still early enough to decide, I'm open to suggestions. Choices for Arden would naturally be up in the air because of her…condition, but there's a twist involving all that as well.**

* * *

I wish that I could say things had gone smoothly after being found and taken in by the Stark children (and unfortunately for me Theon man-whore Greyjoy), but really, it turned out pretty much exactly like you'd expect for someone in my predicament. I mean, I can't stress enough that I am a _wolf pup_. The others adjusted to our new lives as pets just fine, because wolves were all they had ever been. No trace of human souls in them. Just freaky intelligence.

And while sure, they're cute and all, but _being one_? Difficult to say the least. Especially because I'm still thinkin' with my human brain. Sort of.

See, I was beginning to realize, dimly at first but with mounting horror, that this may not be temporary. Hell, this may not be a dream either. I may actually be a goddamn wolf for the unforeseeable future. In which case I'd be forced to adjust. If only it were that simple. The longer I spend in this body the more wolf-like mannerisms seem to just…come.

Wrestling with my siblings no longer felt so strange. I jumped right into the fray now. I wolfed down—no pun intended—the food put in front of me that I probably would have never even touched before. There were times when Theon, that cocky prick, would rub my ears just right, and oh my God if my leg didn't start twitching. Robb did it once after I'd gotten tired playing with Grey Wind, and I embarrassed myself entirely by _kicking_ my leg like Thumper! Bran gave the best belly rubs by far, though. Arya's were a close second. They were sometimes too rough, but I liked the attention if only because she was so sincere.

The realization made me freeze. I liked the attention I got as a pup…

And that was scary in itself, because what if I lost my humanity all together and became a wolf in body _and_ mind? That was why every day, I tried my best to do activities to remind myself I'm human, if only on the inside.

I finally found a mirror—"looking glasses" around here—and got to see the new me for the first time. The children were right. I was a white wolf. But not all white like Ghost. I had a thick black stripe that started between my shoulder blades and ended at the base of my tail. There was black ticking on all four of my legs, and my ears were black. But otherwise I was white. Not to mention the heterochromia thing.

I'd wandered the halls of this house—well, it was actually a castle and the Starks were the ruling family of this place, I'd found out—until I found the library. All big castles have to have good libraries. It's a _rule_. And man was I ever glad it was a rule the Starks unwittingly followed. I tried to slip in unnoticed and when few people were around. I'd found out the hard way a wolf pup dragging a book twice its size down the halls drew…a lot of unwanted attention.

"Greyjoy, what's your pup doing?"

"She's got a tome…" Jon murmured. "She's more of a scholar than you'll ever be."

I had dropped the tome I'd been struggling to take back to Theon's room (I was planning to read it under the bed), and looked up to see my so-called master along with Robb and Jon, watching me with bemused expressions on their faces.

Caught in the act, I pretty much abandoned the book and scampered off with my tail between my legs. I'm sure they put that strange behavior down to puppy mischievousness. Or that's what I was hoping.

So yeah, that was out… But I needed to know where I was and what the hell was going on, and for that I needed access to books! Because going by the way people dressed, talked and lived around here, I sure as hell wasn't about to be blessed with the discovery of a laptop and some wi-fi.

My only option was sneaking around at night for clues. Less conspicuous. Lucky for me, one of the perks this new body _did_ come with, was improved night vision. It was pretty cool, but then wolves did hunt at night so it made sense they'd need the sharp vision to be able to track down prey. _Unlucky_ for me, one thing that hadn't really changed was my crappy sense of direction. So I got lost. Badly. I figured I could at least find my way back to Greyjoy's room, if nothing else.

So I put my nose to work like Scooby Doo and tried following what I thought was his scent. That only got me so far before I got confused—more like distracted—by all the other scents of the people in the castle. Apparently, if you weren't a born tracker, then developing those skills took practice.

I was so frustrated at the prospect of being lost in a big, spooky castle I did the only thing I could do. I cried out.

And that meant…howling.

Howling in the middle of night, even puppy howling, was a big no-no. Another thing I learned the hard way. Sure, it got people to come. But no one who showed up looked very happy with me and I guess I can't say I blame them. Theon got chewed out pretty good by Lady Stark for letting me roam around at night unattended.

Oh, Lady Stark…or Catelyn. Yeah, she's Lord Stark's wife. She seems nice enough. A little strict sometimes. I have no idea why she's got it out for poor John though. At every opportunity she's cutting minchees at the guy, and he just shrinks away, clearly trying to stay low. But besides that she's very loving with the rest of the family from what I've seen.

In total there were five Stark kids: Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon, in that order. Then there was Jon, of course. I think he was their half-brother or something. Come to think of it, maybe _that_ was why Catelyn hated his guts. Was he from a previous marriage or…?

I also couldn't piece together what relation Theon had to them. He wasn't family. He didn't look a thing like anybody I'd seen, yet he lived in the castle. Best I could figure, they were taking care of him?

I hadn't exactly figured out the who's who of the people I spent my days with in terms of how their lives worked, but I was learning.

Back to the point though, after that episode where I woke up half the castle, Theon was pretty adamant about dead-bolting me in his room at night. I sulkily was forced to sleep under his bed. He tried to get me to come out, but no way was I sleeping on the bed with him. No matter how much more comfortable it probably was compared to the floor. Some might call it stubborn, and as I've admitted before I'm just a little bit of a contrarian.

He gave up on getting me to join him after a while. I felt a little bad. I think he saw how close the others were with their wolves and he wanted us to have that. I'd have no problems calling a truce and being friends, if he was just…less of an overall jerk I guess?

Still, I was supposed to be his pet—the twenty-first century woman in me was shuddering at the thought of being _any_ man's pet in _any_ capacity—and the greatest thing about pets was they loved you unconditionally. Technically, he wasn't abusing me or anything. He pretty much let me do my own thing, but he did try to play with me. Things like throwing a stick and tug-o-war when I decided to humor him by actually bringing the stick.

Theon also tried training me like the others were doing with their pups. Again, how much I actually listened depended on if I felt like humoring him that day or not. I was on the fence about coming to the name "Opal", but sometimes I relented and my reward would be an ear rub. I'm not _proud_ of it or anything, okay, but damn, ear rubs feel ten times better than they should.

Because of this, I wanted to try and give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe he wasn't a total slime ball.

That's why I followed him into town one day. He seemed pleased, whistling some tune I had no hope of recognizing. I took the time to look around and familiarize myself with the sights of Winterfell. I found out that's what this place was called. The Stark family was some kind of nobility who ran things around here, apparently.

Maybe that's why Theon strutted around like he owned the place too. I thought maybe he had some shopping to do. There were enough vendors on the street to catch someone's interest. Maybe he was on an errand for the Starks, because sometimes I noticed they gave him specific jobs. He only got them from Lord Stark though.

Or maybe—he stopped in front of a really…uh, what's the right word? Sketchy building. The kind that would make a girl's skin crawl just by being in close proximity to it. Equally sketchy men were hanging around, some of them loudly discussing things that were not for polite company. My ears dropped as I attempted to block them out.

Theon looked down at me and grinned. "Better wait out here, girl." He patted my head and continued on inside.

Some of the men looked at me with interest, but I went mostly ignored. The waiting thing got old fast. Was this some kind of discrimination? No wolves indoors now, is that it? I was pretty sure if it was okay to have a litter of pups scampering around inside a castle, then nowhere should be off limits.

I was getting impatient, so I ran around the side of the building, looking for a window. Not only did I find one, I found some crates near the window and clumsily climbed up. It took a few tries with my small body, and the men simply watched in amusement. So unhelpful. When I got up there and pressed my face to the glass, I really wished I hadn't. I _really_ , _really_ wished I hadn't.

There was Theon, making out with some red-haired woman who was naked and already stripping him out of his clothes. When she started to slide her way down the length of his body to squat at his crotch I screamed bloody murder and tried to take off. I only succeeded in toppling backwards and knocking the crate down. Some people looked up at the commotion and when they saw me struggling to get out from under the crates, they laughed.

I righted myself and shook off. I…I was so done! I stomped off, head and tail raised high in irritation. I'm sure it was a pretty funny sight, and I knew I shouldn't wander off, but I was _not_ waiting around for Greyjoy to finish screwing a whore. Directional issues be damned, I'd make my own way back to the castle.

I ran through the streets, under women's skirts and through the legs of children. I was desperately trying to forget what I'd seen. At the same time, I was upset I'd thought for even a second Greyjoy was more than a man-whore. Needless to say any small amount of respect I'd been building for him had evaporated on the spot.

I mean…there was nothing wrong with sex. I was an adult and I knew it was natural, enjoyable even. I couldn't count how many times Jean had told me I needed to get laid because I was strung way too tight.

But to be visiting a whore house in broad daylight? Didn't he have even a shred of shame? And _that_ was the guy who was my "owner". Of all the people who could have taken me in, I got stuck with him.

I was so distracted by my mental rant, I didn't see the pair of legs I ran into, until after I well, ran into them. I looked up to see a beefy guy with an impressive mustache leering down at me. He, like many people around here, was decked out in fur. Maybe a little too much though. Did that skunk he was wearing _really_ need to die for his scarf? I noticed him looking at me appraisingly and began backing up.

"Hm…well, well…a lost little wolf pup. Don't see many 'round here. I 'spose you belong to one of the Stark brood." Even though he assumed I was the pet of a noble child, it didn't get rid of the gleam in his eyes. "And that pelt." He eyed my fur greedily and I bristled defensively.

 _Don't even think about it. Sort of using this body right now_ , I growled. I was beginning to think this guy was some sort of fur trader. He was way too focused on making a coat out of me. Not to mention the pile of poor, skinned animals he had in his wagon probably should have been a strong clue.

 _Damn it, Arden! You have really been failing on the situational awareness front lately._ I chastised myself.

He looked around, trying to make sure no one was paying attention. "They've got plenty o' wolves for that lot. They won't miss one." he muttered. I turned to run away, but he brought his heavy foot down on my tail to stop me, and I yowled in pain. Bending down, he reached to pick me up, but a hand on his own arm stopped him.

Was luck finally on my side today?

I looked up with big eyes of hope.

I guess maybe a little luck, but mostly it was Jon Snow. I was so relieved I could shed wolf tears.

"I wouldn't if I were you."

The man snatched his arm away and glared at Jon, but my savior didn't back down. I felt something nudge me, and saw Ghost looking down at me, checking to see if I was okay. I was still sprawled on my stomach, having fallen down in pain after he all but stomped on my tail.

But I lifted my face to gratefully nuzzle his. _You have no idea how happy I am to see you guys!_ I barked.

"Going to tell Lord Stark on me, eh?" the fur trader sneered. "Well if you don't want your mutt gettin' in to trouble you shouldn't leave it to run loose." He took his wagon and stomped off down the street, shooting one last longing look back in my direction. _Yep, I'd just have to be the one that got away, pal._ I bared my teeth at him.

Jon sighed, looking down at me in confusion before picking me up. It had been a few weeks since we'd come to live with the Starks, by my estimation. I'd grown some in size. We all had, but not so much we couldn't be carried. Especially Ghost and I. We both still had some catching up to do. But Ghost was doing a better job of it than me. He'd overtake me in size pretty soon.

"What are you doing out here on your own?" he asked me, his face looking concerned. "Where's Theon?"

I suddenly remembered why I almost ended up someone's carpet in the first place, and I began eagerly telling Jon my story. I didn't care if he couldn't understand a word. _Jon, it's awful! I…I followed him because I wanted to get to know him. I thought maybe he wasn't so bad—he gives decent ear rubs after all. But…but he's…he's…he's a hooooe!_

The last word came out as a long howl, and if I were a human I'd probably be blubbering at this point. I had never considered myself one for dramatics. I mean, that was all Jean. But this world was overwhelming in every way imaginable. The levy had to break sometime.

Jon shifted me under one arm, and comfortingly rubbed my head with his free hand. I calmed slightly, because I'll be damned if it didn't feel good. He looked like he was thinking, and his mouth stretched into a thin line. "It's not like I can't guess…" he said under his breath. My eyes, which had been closing in content, popped open. I stared at him, slack-jawed.

 _Wait, you mean to tell me you knew?! And you didn't warn me?_ I peered down at my brother, who was still at Jon's side, with accusing eyes. _Did_ you _know?!_ He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"You must be scared. You've had a rough time of it." Jon finally said, looking down at me. "I'll take you back to the castle. We'll leave Greyjoy to drag himself home later."

 _Fine with me._ I sniffled. My tail was still hurting. I really hope it wasn't broken or anything. I seriously doubted they had vets around here. I let Jon and Ghost escort me to the castle without any more fuss.

I was still sulking until Jon fed us some pheasant he'd gotten for Ghost, but was nice enough to split with me—it still felt really strange that I took to raw meat so easily, and that it didn't make me sick.

When my "owner" finally came swaggering back, I was laid out in the sunshine with Ghost and Grey Wind, watching Robb and Jon go at it with practice swords. It was entertaining, because I'd never witnessed anything like this before. But here, in this practically-medieval time period I found myself in.

Fighting with swords and bows was still very much the norm. I have to say, there was something to be said about the skill and power it took to effectively wield those weapons. There was an art to sword fighting I think had been lost with the advent of the gun.

Anyway, Theon Greyjoy made himself known with a shout and a satisfied grin. Like I didn't know what had put that smile on his face. Sicko. Jon and Robb glanced up to see him, and stopped their duel.

"Looking a little winded there lads, don't tell me you're already done."

Robb wiped his brow with the back of his arm and raised a brow at his friend. "We've been at this for quite a while now. Something you'd know if you'd been around."

"He was off with his favorite whore again." Jon said quietly.

Theon smirked crookedly and puffed out his chest. "Can't let Ros get too lonely. I'm the only decent lay she gets."

"How much extra did you give her to tell you that?" Robb snickered.

Before Greyjoy could fire a comeback, Jon decided it would be a good time to pile on.

"While you were off getting your fill of whore, I found Opal wandering around by herself. Some fur trader was about to add her to his collection."

Greyjoy's face fell and Robb's brows rose.

"You left your wolf unattended?" Robb asked. "By the gods, Theon, it's a wonder she's still alive with you as a master. They're still just pups."

"Where is she?" Greyjoy asked, ignoring Robb. Jon inclined his head in our direction where the three of us were resting in the shade. Theon approached us and my hair immediately stood on hand. I growled as he crouched in front of me. _Can't you see I'm pissed at you?_

He ignored my warning and reached out a hand for me. I snapped at it and caught some of his fingers. He pulled them back and looked at his red hand. My tiny teeth may not have been capable of ripping apart someone's flesh just yet, but they were sharp and I knew they hurt.

Theon stuck the two fingers I'd bitten into his mouth, staring at me with his stormy blue eyes. He took them out and sighed. "I deserve that, I guess."

I barked angrily. _You deserve a lot more, actually. And here I was, thinking maybe you weren't so bad! But not only are you a total man-whore, you're also a shitty pet owner._

Robb and Jon had come up behind him, giving me sympathetic looks. It was nice to know they were on my side. "At this rate you won't be able to form a strong bond." Robb warned. Grey Wind got up as soon as his master approached and went to go lean against his leg. Robb reached down and fondly stroked his back.

"So how am I supposed to go about making it right?" Theon asked sarcastically. I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or his friends, but it was Jon who answered.

"You could always start by not leaving your pup to wander by herself. That's how she got lost in the castle that night. If you spent half as much time with her as you did at the brothel, you would have bonded by now."

Greyjoy glared. "At least I've got the option." He shot back. "You've got the company of Ghost to warm your bed, and not much else."

"Enough." Robb interrupted before things could get ugly. "Father made it clear they're our responsibility. You could stand to take it a bit more seriously."

Robb turned on his heel and walked off, clearly no longer in the mood to practice. Grey Wind nudged my head and then followed his master. Jon stared silently between me and Greyjoy and then he left too. Ghost was right on his heels.

"Being lectured by the little lordling and the bastard…" He scoffed. Turning down to me, he inclined his head. "Well c'mon then." I looked on dubiously. I hope he didn't seriously expect me to follow after everything he'd put me through to—

"And here I thought we could bond over seeing what there is to take from the kitchens."

I looked down at my speckled feet in thought. _Well, watching all that intense sword fighting sort of worked up an appetite._

I reluctantly followed a pleased looking Greyjoy, cursing my inner wolf for being such a ravenous beast.

* * *

 **Honestly, I'd eventually like "Opal" and Theon to at least develop a friendship, if nothing else. But for right now, she's pretty fed up with him, understandably so. XD It'll get better though. I** _ **did**_ **tell myself I was going to accept the challenge after all.**

 **I'm thinking next chapter will have the king's arrival.**

 **This is Arden's chance to inadvertently change something. If she can...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you for the continued support on this story everyone, I've really enjoyed the reviews so far. For the people who reviewed just to tell me you stopped reading because Theon's a main character in the story…I really can't help that. XD Plus I think the summary pretty much alludes to there being Theon in it. How many snarky man-whores do we think live with the Starks, exactly? I'm not exactly a Theon lover myself. But when I write fanfics, even if I don't necessarily like the character, I try to portray them objectively. If the writer focuses too much on just bashing all the characters they're not fond of (without real context), I think it can detract from the story and distract readers, personally. I mean if it's just a pointless bash fic, then fine, but if you want your story to be taken seriously you have to try to find balance. But that's all my opinion on the matter.**

 **Plus, right now where the story coincides with canon, Theon IS a main character. And since Arden/Opal is currently his wolf, for now Theon's got a role in the story. So thank you to everyone who decided to stick around~**

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I crawled out from under the bed with a long yawn, stretching my spine as much as possible. I glanced behind me to see Theon had found his way back sometime after I'd gone to sleep. He was sprawled out on top of the furs with his brown hair messy and his clothes disheveled. If I had to guess I'd say he had his fun with some poor, stupid servant girl, and then crept back into his own room. Wouldn't be the first time. Then again, my nose was strong—stronger than I wanted it to be—and I didn't smell anyone's scent on him but his. I couldn't really describe what that scent smelled like exactly, except something vaguely of the sea. But it was definitely less offensive than getting a strong whiff of just-got-laid-musk. So, he probably just went to bed too tipsy to finish changing out of his clothes.

I watched him sleeping for a second, because really, what else was I supposed to do? He might be attractive—to _some_ people— if he wasn't a whore. Then I decided it was time he woke up and let me out of this room. One thing that hadn't changed, I still woke up every morning with a full bladder, doing the pee-pee dance. Only now I was doing it on four legs, and I wasn't racing Jean to the bathroom.

I hopped on the bed, an easier feat now that my legs were a little longer. As much as I hated to—because jerk or not, I wasn't really into violating someone's personal space—I launched myself right onto Theon's stomach. It had the desired effect; he woke up with a grunt, his head flying off the pillow.

Winded and probably feeling the impact of having a growing wolf pup on him, he cracked one eye open, saw it was me, and groaned. "Off with you," He pushed me to the side. "And I was just having the nicest dream…" he sighed wistfully. "My own fleet to captain and the best wenches gold could buy." I cocked my head as he murmured into his pillow.

Was that seriously what he dreamed about? Being a pirate (because who the hell would ever let Theon captain anything otherwise?) and getting booty (but not the _aaargh, matey_! kind)…and gold? I barked out a chuckle. And just when I thought my delusions about getting back into my rightful body were the most farfetched imaginings being had in this castle.

"Think it's funny, do you?" He sat up and narrowed his eyes at me.

I stopped and stared at him, startled. How did he know I was laughing at his expense…? Was he really starting to understand me? Because truth be told I don't think I was any closer to understanding _him_. I'd notice that the other wolves and I had a way of…communicating without words, a way of seemingly understanding each other through barks, growls and body language. It was on a whole other level than anything I'd experienced before, and it might have sounded sort of hippie-ish, but I truly felt in tune with their spirits, and I wanted to believe they were in tune with mine.

In a world where the gift of speech had been taken from me, and no one ever understood a thing I said, having _someone_ , _anyone_ hear my silent voice, even if they were wolves, was a comfort. I was further surprised when Theon leaned forward to study me inquisitively. "What are you thinking of now, wolfie?" he asked. "Always seems like you watch everything I do. You're smarter n' the others, that's for sure."

He looked almost…proud of that. Then he reached out and before I could back away, had my left ear between his fingertips. Goddamn him! My one true weakness in this body…! Well, if you counted the fact that since becoming a wolf my appetite was almost insatiable, ear rubs were one of _two_ of my true weaknesses. But right now, it was the ear rub weakness that had brought me to my knees…figuratively speaking of course.

I _still_ had not figured out the magic that made something so simple feel _so_ good. But the right pair of hands could make an ear rub feel damn near orgasmic. Sort of like how triple-layer chocolate cake felt during those monthly nightmares. I felt my head tilting, slightly leaning into the feeling and forgetting for the moment who was causing it. That was until I heard him chuckle. "Then again, you still are a beast. This proves it." Well then. I huffed, feeling slightly offended despite seeing his reasoning. I mean I didn't actually know a _person_ who got off on ear rubs, so…

But inside I was a twenty-year old girl, and a twenty-year old girl doesn't appreciate being called a beast. Take note of that, fellas. No matter how hairy she may currently be, thankyouverymuch! I pulled away, gave him what I hoped was an unimpressed glare, and hopped off the bed to wait by the door. _You totally ruined the moment. Now get your ass up or so help me you'll have a mess to clean up on this floor!_ I barked.

"So demanding," I heard him mutter, but he still swung his legs out of bed and shuffled to the door, releasing the dead-bolt.

I quickly darted out, running down the hall and practically sliding down the steps on my way outside. Everyone had marveled at how easy I was to housetrain; it sort of made up for the howling incident in the mind of Lady Catelyn, I guess. Little did she know I just had too much dignity to do it anywhere but in the privacy of some bushes. Nothing more, nothing less. Plus I'd seen the so-called "toilets" they used around here and let me just say…whew, gross!

I trotted out feeling relieved after I'd done what I came outside to do, and grinned when I saw some of my siblings wandering around on their morning bathroom breaks too. They all meandered around, playfully giving their good morning greetings and doing their business.

There was Lady, Grey Wind, Shaggy Dog and Bran's pup, which he'd finally decided to call Summer. I was a little surprised, because this place was so…winter-themed, it was a little ironic. Not to mention, I'd never really known "Summer" to be used as a unisex name. But Bran's cute, freckled face had been so proud when he'd announced the name to his family, I instantly wanted to bite the ankle of anyone that dared to tell him he couldn't call his wolf what he wanted.

We all had some fun rolling around in the early morning sun before going back inside. The others were eager to return to their respective Starks, and I was ready to eat. In this body, I felt like I was _always_ ready. I understood that babies needed lots of nutrients to grow up strong. So even though they seemed to eat an unreasonable amount in a day's time, it was necessary for their development. I knew it was more or less the same with most baby animals. I was probably just shy of being ten-weeks old in this body, if I had to guess.

I entered the castle and climbed up the steps with some lingering difficulty. Theon should be dressed by now, and he'd know that it was time for me to eat.

I still had a lot of growing to do if Mama Wolf's size was any indication, so me eating so much made sense. But I wasn't use to it. I had stayed pretty lean as a human. I was lean and lanky Arden Stein, geek girl extraordinaire for most of my short life. "Thin as a reed but tall as a weed" is what my mom use to say. I was all limbs by age fourteen and pretty much after that point. I ate modestly, and was relatively tall for a girl, I guess. 5'8".

Now I was small, stumpy and hoovered up nearly anything put in front of me, and it made me feel…like I was bound to get fat before long. I was still holding myself to human standards, I guess. It was hard not to do, after so long. And even harder to let go of was my pride.

That was why when I scratched at Theon's door, I lowered my head. He opened it some and peered down at me before sighing and opening the door wider. I froze because while he was wearing pants and his boots he was naked from the waist up. _On second thought…_ I started to grumble and turn to go back downstairs when he hitched his foot under my butt and slid me into the room, closing the heavy wood door. I huffed. Yeah, that's why this guy gets under my skin. How rude is it to boot someone around?

"You know," he started to say, pulling his tunic over his head and then reaching for his doublet, "If you were a real girl you wouldn't be any fun."

…Yet another reason I didn't care if Theon Greyjoy fell into a pit of snakes.

I wasn't someone who was too stubborn to accept help. But I had started out so helpless, and still was in a lot of ways. I relied on people, namely Theon and sometimes the Starks, to meet all my needs or I would die. I don't know if I'd ever have it in me to hunt my own meals, and as that brush with the fur trader had proved, I was vulnerable to other dangers besides just starvation.

So I'd sort of been forced to call a truce with Theon, at least for _now._ If he didn't get his act together, when I was capable of fending for myself, I still planned to make good on my promise and run the hell away from him. The thought of Theon putting up missing posters of me curled my lips into a wolf-grin. He'd really hear it from Jon and the Stark kids, too. They all seemed to like me, if I said so myself.

But putting that aside, Theon and I had sort of mended fences. But not really. I still found him morally questionable, and he still wasn't as attentive an owner as the Starks, but we had what I liked to think of as a working relationship. A...partnership if you will. He'd occasionally go and take food from the kitchens, and I'd help.

Usually by providing a distraction in some way. Theon would then stealthily sneak in and snatch fruit tarts and meat pies before anyone noticed. He'd make a mad dash outside, and I'd follow and get rewarded with some of whatever he managed to take. It wasn't really a friendship but we both still got something out of it.

I knew that if anything happened to me, though, Theon would go on as usual. It wasn't like the Starks and their wolves. I'm pretty sure if any one of the kids lost their pups unexpectedly, not only would said wolf's owner be devastated, but the others as well. If I died now, I'm pretty sure my so called master wouldn't be too broken up. It was fine, though. Like I said things were alright the way they were.

Besides, just because my relationship with Greyjoy was tentative at best, it doesn't mean I hadn't made any friends. The Starks were great. I spent time which each of them and their pups. Shaggy Dog and Rickon were usually running wild outside, much to the horror of Catelyn. I don't know what she expected. He was a growing boy, so I think it was pretty normal. At times I'd just observe, but other times the wolf blood was so strong, and I'd get caught up in their free-spirited games and run with them.

We'd wrestle and chase and play Rickon's imaginary games until we were all filthy. And then whatever maid that was supposed to be babysitting Rickon that he'd escaped from would come running out right about the time we were done, and cry out in dismay. While they chastised a six-year old for being a six-year old and then the maid in turn was chastised by Catelyn for not keeping Rickon clean, Shaggy Dog and I would be hauled off for baths. I preferred it when we were bathed by female servants, because the alternative was well…

Let's just say there were times I'd be handed off to Greyjoy and further traumatized. I don't care if I was an animal on the outside. On the inside, I was cognizant of the fact that I lived in a state of constant nudity, and I didn't want some guy washing me. So whenever I was handed off to Theon for a bath, I made sure I got him soaking wet to let him know I wasn't pleased.

But when I wasn't up to mischief with the youngest Stark and his wolf, I'd find another kid to shadow for the day. If I felt like being quiet I'd occasionally sit with Sansa as she concentrated on her embroidery. I admit, she was really good. I bet if she were a modern teenage girl she'd be into up-cycling and maybe have aspirations of being a fashion designer. But Sansa's aspirations mainly included marrying some handsome young lord. Total romantic. And a girly-girl.

I guess I should really expect that as the norm for a young girl in this time period…whenever the hell that was. Clearly medieval though. The only downside to joining Sansa and Lady and sometimes Sansa's chatty, giggling friends, was that she assumed I enjoyed her work so much I wanted to wear it. She made these frilly lace…bib-things and stuck one on me, beaming proudly. Lady got one too.

I guess they were supposed to be sort of like bandanas or something. Except that I truly felt like I was about to be burped… She'd even taken the time to sew our names onto them (mine said "Opal"), so I felt bad when I snuck away and tried to get it off. I kept it under Theon's bed though, because I couldn't just get rid of a gift she'd taken the time to make me. No matter how…unnecessary.

In contrast though, hanging with Arya usually meant meeting her when she stormed out of the same lessons on etiquette Sansa enjoyed, to play with Nymeria. Sometimes she just wouldn't go at all. It was clear she felt like the black sheep of the group. A tomboy who had zero interest in being lady-like and proper, and who just wanted to be one of the boys. I hadn't exactly been like her growing up, but I wasn't ever super feminine either, so in a way I understood a little.

Instead, Arya watched her brothers and Theon get to practice with swords and bows and the twinkle in her eyes was clear. It really made me appreciate my own time all the more. Women may not have always been treated as equals to men back home, either but they probably had more rights than they did here. No, scratch that. They definitely did. Part of why I never was keen on studying the "olden times" in school, were because women, among other groups, were treated as second-class citizens, to the extreme.

Trying to snuff out all the adventure and wildness from a little girl like Arya, who clearly had aspirations her sex wouldn't allow her to fulfill, was sad. I wanted her to show the boys, and her mother, and the whole world, that just because she did things a different way than the traditional "lady" it didn't mean it was wrong.

I know my own mother would have not only been in full support of Arya's hobbies, she would have been insulted to have a daughter who wasn't true to herself, no matter what that meant. I wish I could speak if for no other reason than to tell Catelyn to just chill. Let the kids be who they wanted to be. Oh, and stop fucking shooting death beams at Jon. That was the other thing I'd tell her.

Jon, from everything I'd seen, was a good guy. A quiet guy. If he was raising hell maybe I'd understand a little better why all the enmity from Catelyn was directed at him. But he didn't deserve the icy looks and the barbed words she threw his way on a daily basis. I didn't care how he came to be. Be pissed at your husband, be pissed at the "other woman", but be mature enough to realize that Jon was the innocent one, at least. It's not like I'm saying she didn't have a right to be mad. Having your husband's infidelity living under your roof and staring at you with big grey eyes was something I couldn't imagine. Catelyn definitely kept a "sins of the father" philosophy.

But Jon never once complained or said anything disrespectful to Catelyn. When his presence was agitating her he made himself scarce without a word. I respected his saintly amount of calm in dealing with it. He had this air around him though. Sort of gloomy. So he could be a little on the emo side when the mood hit, but yeah, I was pretty sure he was a good guy. He fed me meals when Theon "forgot"—which meant he was in town whoring—and he scratched behind my ears in the right way every single time. There was also the fact that he'd rescued me from becoming a coat when he could have looked the other way, and how kind he was to his siblings. Even Sansa, who had mostly adopted her mother's attitude towards Jon, to a somewhat lesser degree. All of this was enough to convince me Jon Snow was good people.

And Robb too! I had concluded he was also a good guy. He seemed responsible for the most part, and he was pretty attractive too. It had nothing to do with his character but I want to throw that out there. Some of Sansa's friends definitely agreed if all the giggling and whispers when he walked by meant anything. He carried himself confidently, and I could tell he aimed to be a good son. The only thing I could probably really fault him for was hanging around with my wayward "master". As far as friends went he could probably do better. But, it was a small fault in the grand scheme of things. _He_ , unlike Theon, was a good owner to his wolf.

They had bonded fast and fiercely. I'm pretty sure my brother would readily face down an opponent three times his size for Robb's sake. I had found out that the whole notion of living by justice and chivalry was very much alive in this time, and the Starks took it seriously. Again and again I'd hear people say the Starks were a family with "pride and honor". They made it sound like honor was an important resource to be coveted. I took it to mean that being here, Theon or not, meant I was in the best hands possible for now.

I tried to remind myself of that every time I got fed up with being in this body, or not knowing what the future held, or what exactly was going on. I also tried to remember the gentle belly rubs of Bran, and his adventurous spirit. I'm not sure if it was because of our initial meeting and how he had pleaded for our lives, but I found that I really liked Bran. He was a good kid. Not the best archer, but a good kid. He was into climbing everything. A regular little acrobat. And I know I already said I think Catelyn should chill and let her kids do their own things, I could easily see why she worried in Bran's case.

Sometimes I'd find Summer restlessly pacing near the foot of a tower and all I needed to do was look up to see Bran's small body nimbly making his way up stone walls and across rooftops. The first time I saw it, I nearly fainted. He was _so_ high, and all I could think of was the impact his body would make if it hit the ground. But Bran put my silent worries to rest. Somehow, he never lost his footing, never fell. It didn't stop me from being on edge until he was safely back on the ground.

In that way and that way only, I understood Catelyn Stark's henpecking. When Bran _was_ on the ground though, he, Summer and I would have fun. It was even wilder when Rickon joined in.

Once Jory Cassel, one of Lord Stark's most trusted men, took us out to a stream to fish. Correction. He took the boys and we wolves followed. While they tried to reel in their catches, I took turns splashing around with Summer. Ghost didn't really want to join and Grey Wind was having fun treeing squirrels.

I was thinking about all these different things, and about my impression of each Stark, when I heard Theon calling for me impatiently. I glanced up to see him fully dressed and standing by the door. I wondered how long he'd been waiting. I stood and followed him out of the room, because hello, how else was I getting fed?

I was absorbed in what the first meal of the day would be for me, and I bumped right into the back of Theon's legs. He wasn't paying attention to that though. He seemed sort of distracted all the way down to the kitchens where he retrieved a plucked and slightly roasted bird and led me outside. This was when I mentioned that one of the only things I could say I genuinely admired Theon Greyjoy for, was his skill with a bow.

I could dislike his cocky attitude and womanizing, but he was a regular Katniss Everdeen with the bow, and it kept me fed. He'd shoot small game like Cornish hens and rabbits and have it cooked rare for me. He'd noticed I preferred my food at least somewhat cooked although my inner wolf relished raw meat too.

Hen was on the menu today, and he tossed it down on the ground and watched me dig in. I had been self-conscious about my new eating habits for the first few days I'd lived here, but then realized I couldn't afford to be, and got with the program.

The human in me would always rebel that I truly ate like a wolf now, for the most part. I wasn't a vegetarian or anything before, but I had never really been into the sport of hunting either. Here, hunting was the source of the majority of the meat, and I couldn't complain, because I benefitted from eating it.

I was learning every day to live a happy medium, appeasing both my human mind but my wolf tendencies. I finished with my food and licked my mouth neatly. Theon's brow quirked, and I could tell he was marveling at how fast I'd eaten. Whatever. If I could have shrugged at him I would've. Girl's gotta eat, man.

Now, he would go inside and join the Starks for breakfast. I'd usually stay out for a while and enjoy the sunshine, wait for the other pups to join me. This morning I followed him back inside to the Stark's dining hall. Almost the whole family was there. Catelyn eyed me as Theon entered the room and I followed, her mouth drawn in a thin line. I don't think she really approved of wolves indoors, let alone at the table.

I ignored her and folded myself comfortably under Theon's seat. I could hear the clinking of the forks and knives, and the family's idle chatter. I could also smell the heavy aroma of fresh made breads, eggs, and fruit tarts. I think there was sausage up there too. Just as I was thinking about how to coerce someone to toss me some, I heard Catelyn asking where Arya was. Right on cue, light footsteps sounded against the stone floor as Arya ran in, panting slightly. "Good morning!" she greeted, and then her little legs appeared under the table, swinging jovially next to Jon's.

"Arya, honestly…" Catelyn sighed.

"Your hair is a bird's nest." Sansa commented. There was clear disapproval in her voice.

"Oh, do shove it, Sansa…" Arya huffed, her voice already muffled by food.

Then a throat cleared and I heard Ned's (that was what Catelyn was always calling Lord Stark, so that's what I called him too) strong voice. "Girls, please." He interrupted. "I've got news from King's Landing."

Everything topside stilled and I couldn't help but perk my ears attentively. "Jon Arryn has died. From a fever." There was true sadness in his normally steady voice. "And," he continued. "The king rides for Winterfell. His whole court is coming."

The table exploded then. Not literally, but almost.

There were a jumble of voices and reactions.

Sansa's distinct scream of excitement was clear though. Everything I knew about Sansa, allowed me to guess that this was probably something straight out of her dreams. I'm sure she was now daydreaming about handsome princes or noble knights. Her excitement wouldn't have been so bad, if it didn't hurt my sensitive ears…

Arya was babbling about the Kingsguard, whatever that was. Probably warriors, knowing her.

Bran was asking when but his voice was mostly being drowned out by his sisters'.

"Everyone, please!" Catelyn raised her voice above the din. "Now we've got a lot of preparing to do before his arrival. This is the king, after all. I'll expect you all on your best behavior, of course. No climbing," she told Bran. "No bickering," she paused, and I imagined her looking at Sansa and Arya, "And no wolves underfoot." She actually peered under the table to look at me and I returned it with my most innocent face. _Why, I would never…_

If I had fingers to cross, I would totally cross them. I didn't know much about this land, but I knew a king was a king was a king. If he was coming here, I would most definitely be doing some heavy investigating, right in the thick of things.

* * *

 **Well, I meant to have the King's arrival in THIS chapter, but it will most definitely be in the next one. Hurricane Irma, who is so disrespectful, totally set me back in terms of…well, everything. Living in the southeastern US, that happens every hurricane season though. I made out better than FL or the Caribbean, those poor people.** **But still, college closed down for a week and because of that, the classes are behind and the professors are going to be cramming a LOT of work down my throat to catch up….uuuugh.**

 **Whenever I can squeeze in the time to update again, Arden will be running directly into the events of episode one (which you already know have been split up). Changing some events possibly? Trolling some Lannisters (definitely)? Also, may be mixing show and book canon as it suits the story. How much or how little, I'm still working over. Thank you for reading and please review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I just want to mention I am following the book descriptions for most of the characters. So Bran and Rickon look more Tully than they do in the show.**

 **Also playing with ages. Some characters are the ages they are in the first book and some are the ages they started at in season 1.**

 **I've been thinking of different scenarios for "Opal" to learn more about Westeros, as well as accidentally change the fates of a few characters; feel free to throw out suggestions as the story progresses. Friendly feedback is always encouraged. I'm loving some of the guesses as to how she'll eventually get back to human and the extent. I already had a pretty solid idea in mind for how it's going to go down, but again, if you'd like to throw out suggestions feel free.**

 **I wouldn't call it bashing exactly, but Opal is a willful er…wolf, as it's already been shown. And she trolls the Lannisters more than a little bit to welcome them to Winterfell. XD**

* * *

It really wasn't an exaggeration to say activity had doubled around the castle since the announcement that the king was coming. It was to be expected. It was a _king_. King Robert, apparently. I was still desperately trying to find out as much information about him and this country as possible. I now had gained an important piece though.

It wasn't a democracy, like I was used to. It was a monarchy that this place operated on. The bookworm in me was itching for more details though. I was filled to the brim with questions and I had no one to ask. I was getting frustrated still being so in the dark. Had I known that any of this was remotely possible, that I'd find myself like this, I would have just watched the stupid show the first time Jean asked. Or at least cracked one of the damn books.

But no, my contrarianism had gotten me into this mess. A world I knew next to nothing about. A fictional place that wasn't so fictional after all. How did that even work? Dying and being reincarnated into another time…sure, let's pretend I bought it. But even though _Game of Thrones_ was based off the Middle Ages it wasn't supposed to be _real_. I mean, every time I looked at Ned, I was starting to see an uncanny resemblance to the actor Sean Bean.

Speaking of the time period, I was a little pissed about that, too. If I had to die and wake up somewhere else, living a new life, couldn't it at least be somewhere with indoor plumbing? Not that I'd really benefit from it, since I was currently peeing in bushes every day.

I digress though. I was on the hunt for information and nothing was gonna stop me this time. I was even willing to venture back into town with Greyjoy, if that's what it took. But I was cleverer about it this time. I made sure he was with someone else before I followed. I figured he wouldn't go whoring with friends, would he?

…Well, he technically could, but he was mostly with Robb and Jon if he wasn't off with some girl, and neither one of them seemed particularly interested in the whore house. So I figured if he was with either of them it'd be safe to venture out on my own little adventure to collect clues. The local people outside the castle walls were just as anxious about the arrival of royalty as everyone else in Winterfell. I was able to get snippets from them. Mostly rumors and nothing I probably couldn't catch inside the castle, but it was info.

I always had my ears open for news, and I was debating trying to sneak into the library again. It was a treasure trove of information right under my nose! Until I could find the right time though, I kept shadowing people I thought would have useful information. I followed Rodrik Cassel, the castle's Master of Arms. He was in charge of training the boys in sword-fighting and archery mostly.

I followed Jory Cassel, his nephew and the friendly captain of the guard. I even followed Luwin, who was a "maester". I found out he was in charge of tending to the family's health, and he also served as a private tutor for the boys. It sort of pissed me off Sansa and Arya only ever had sewing and etiquette lessons. I mean they could read and write but apparently learning to be a good wife trumped learning math and history and how to wield a sword in this world.

So anyway, when Catelyn decided the boys needed fresh haircuts I tagged along. I figured if girls gossiped at salons, maybe boys gossiped at the barber's…or whatever they had here. Honestly, when we walked through the door to find a bald man waiting in a dusty room with straw on the floor, dead animals strung up by their feet from the ceiling, and sheep everywhere, I started questioning what passed for a barber around here. He eyed me intently as I trailed in behind the boys. Robb noticed and chuckled. "It's alright, Tommy. She's harmless." He smiled down at me, and I grinned back.

"Unless you're Theon." Jon added. He wasn't wrong. Out of everyone in Winterfell, I gave Theon the hardest time, without a doubt. I think the rest of the castle found it pretty funny.

Theon offered a short mock laugh. "Found your sense of humor, have you Snow?"

"As long as she doesn't startle the sheep." Tommy relented. I rolled my eyes slightly, not that anyone saw. I found a patch of straw that looked clean and settled down on top of it. "Now, who's going first?" The three traded looks between them, and then Jon and Theon simultaneously shoved Robb towards the chair Tommy had waiting.

Robb sighed, giving them a look of faint betrayal. And then, I got the shock of a lifetime when he started… _taking his shirt off_?! I blinked, wondering when the hell stripping became a requirement for a haircut. That was when I noticed Jon and Theon were working themselves out of their top layers too. Oh. Oh! I contemplated hiding my face, then I remembered that I was an animal, and animals weren't supposed to feel embarrassment when humans stripped. Not to mention, boys were allowed to be shirtless in public.

But if the pants started coming off I was _so_ gone. I had the misfortune of being in the apartment on a night when Jean had her sorority sisters over. They were shit-faced wasted and had been looking for "something wild" to watch. I knew what the start of a bad porno looked like when I saw it.

The tunics and doublets were tossed aside in a pile, and suddenly three bare-chested young men were all standing there, like it was no big deal to shed clothes for a haircut. I guess maybe it wasn't for them.

Robb sat down in front of Tommy, crossing his arms so that his biceps involuntarily flexed. I was suddenly aware that the training I'd seen him do with Theon and his brothers under the castle's Master-at-Arms had shown results. It wasn't just his arms. His torso was also rippling with tight muscles under pale skin…

I put my head down on my paws and started to think about things like my brother's favorite (ugly) cat Christmas sweater. I also thought of the off-putting smell my great-aunt's house always had, something between onion and wet fur. Anything to push noticing how hot he was to the back of my mind. I stopped just short of forcing myself to remember the time my fifth grade science teacher had bent over in front of me and accidentally given me a flash of _his_ thong.

It was at that moment, when I felt I had finally gotten myself under control that Jon decided to stomp over. Now I was just pissed. I'd need to remember the thong after all. Damnit, Jon!

He was frowning, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking…he was really pretty. Like seriously. With the curly black hair, big eyes and pouty lips…it really wasn't fair. I had never been overly attractive by my own assessment. I was too tall, too dorky and too…plain. Boys tended to gravitate to girls like Jean…blonde with a figure perfectly toned by Pilates who could effortlessly make themselves the life of the party. So, even Jon had me beat look's wise.

I absolutely refused to look at his abs. Hell, I didn't trust myself to even look at Theon straight on right now. I needed a cold, stiff one. There was plenty of alcohol consumption in Winterfell from what I'd seen. Someone was drinking at every meal; I could easily smell it with this new nose. It was unfair I couldn't even get a sip at times like these.

Robb continued to patiently allow Tommy to shave his face…with a blade. Holy shit that could _not_ be safe. Trail a little further down his jaw, to his neck and… Nope. Razors were technically blades too, and yes they had been known to nick, speaking from experience. But it was better than scraping off hair with an actual _knife_.

"Why's your mother so dead set on us getting pretty for the king?" Jon asked sharply.

"It's for the queen I bet." Theon said eagerly. "I hear she's a sleek bit of minx." Ugh, he'd better not have any funny ideas. Pretty sure if he tried screwing the queen it'd literally be his head.

Then again, if anything happened to Theon, I think by rights of inheritance, I should get his room. I mulled it over. You know what? Go for it, Theon. I was temporarily distracted of thinking what I'd gain from Theon's demise by a young man walking in carrying a huge slab of meat over his shoulder. Is this a butcher's, a barber's or a shepherd's place?

"I heard the prince is a right royal prick." Robb spoke this time. I was a little surprised to hear the disgust, since it was all hearsay anyway. But I totally got it. Nobody liked an asshole. Even a hypothetical one. The barber tilted his head to shave further up his jaw.

"Think of all the Southern girls he gets to stab with his right royal prick." Theon said mischievously.

One of the sheep boldly wandered over to me, and had the nerve to start trying to graze on my tail. I used said tail to bitch-slap it in the face and it bleated in shock. _Beat it, Lambchop!_ The sheep saw my glare and wisely shuffled away. I was free to listen in peace again.

"There, you're all done." Tommy finally said, removing the blade to reveal Robb's clean shaven face. My eyes popped open. The before and after effect was pretty shocking. He looked years younger now. Theon and Jon noticed too, because they started smirking. Before any teasing could occur though, Robb stood, and made sure he got his revenge. At least on Jon.

He walked to his brother and slapped his naked shoulder. "Go on, Tommy. Shear him good!" he smiled. "He hasn't met a girl he likes more than his own hair."

Robb and Theon snickered. Jon was looking down as he slowly walked toward the chair. Tommy, almost impatiently, reached for Jon's shoulder and yanked him down into the chair, immediately snatching a fistful of curls and pulling out a pair of shearing scissors with his other hand.

Jon looked like he wanted to cry at that moment. His unsupportive friends laughed even harder when they saw his face. I was feeling a little more torn. Jon had always been nice to me. I was amused and laughing myself, on the inside. But I also felt a certain level of pity. I mean, his "grumpy" face made it hard not to.

I decided I could at least show my solidarity. I met his eyes, and I think he was surprised by the sympathy I had in mine. I was supposed to be a "simple beast". I shouldn't understand emotions like sympathy for someone about to get what was probably going to be a horrible, cringe-worthy haircut _. Rest in pieces, Jon's hair._ I barked once as a sendoff.

And then Tommy started snipping, and black hair was on the floor.

* * *

I can't say why, but I was feeling pretty energetic following the boys out of the barber's. I darted around, playfully leaping at a bird who swooped down too close to my face. Theon laughed at me. "She'll be a decent hunter before long. Might even train her to come on hunts with me." he remarked. I paused, glancing back at him. I think out of the three of them, he made out the best. That is to say I think he was the least traumatized.

He had less facial hair to be cut than Robb, and Tommy only really lightly trimmed his hair. It wasn't the dramatic shearing he'd given poor Jon. Who by the way, was still very clearly sulking. I guess all the jeering by his brother and Theon probably didn't help his confidence. I let myself fall back until I was in step with Jon. I got his attention by brushing against his leg. He looked down, startled from his brooding thoughts. I gave him my best wolf-grin. _Cheer up! Hair grows back, but frown lines are forever_. I advised, knowing he didn't understand.

Still, after staring at me for a long minute, his face looked a _little_ bit happier. I think. I felt like my job was done, so I practically skipped ahead again. I was a little shocked at my own behavior. I don't think I'd been this carefree since I was five.

Just this morning, I was hell-bent on finding a way to learn about this strange place I was in. I was feeling lonely, frustrated and if I'm being honest, bitter. Being a wolf isn't as cool as the supernatural/romances make it seem. Well, it might be cooler, if I could change shape at will like those characters did. But I was stuck with what I got, and what I got was this body— furry, the size of a growing puppy, and apparently sought after for my pelt.

We entered the castle again and the boys all parted ways to go change into their "good clothes". Catelyn was determined everybody would be looking neat. Even the wolves all had mandatory baths.

I decided to linger outside a little though. See what I could see. The whole of the castle was bustling, as expected. It had been that way all week since Ned announced the king was paying a visit. I watched Jory talking to some of his men, probably instructing them where to stand when the king came if his hand gestures meant anything.

I bet King Robert had his own entourage to protect him, a big one. I started to wonder just what kind of man this king was. A fair ruler? A cruel one? The world _I knew_ had its share of both.

I sat and watched Jory and his guard, sort of just spacing out. Bad idea. I yelped when I felt someone step on my tail. Fuck! What's a wolf gotta do to keep a tail around here?! It was a vulnerable body part and besides bitch-slapping sheep it didn't seem to have many uses so far. In fact, people wanted to play dirty and step or pull on it. I glared at the offender, only to see it was Arya, and she was wandering around with a metal helmet on her head.

I only noticed it was her because it smelled like Arya and her face was immediately apologetic when she leaned close. "Opal! Sorry!" she reached down and ran her hand from my head down my spine where the black stripe ended. "I'll sneak you lots of sausage later. I promise."

Eh, good enough for me. I carefully wagged my throbbing tail to let her know I agreed and that she was forgiven. She smiled and pulled the visor back down, getting to her feet and darting off again.

I'd put money on the fact that dear Cat had _no_ idea she's running around like that. I snickered. Speaking of, I could almost _hear_ the Lady of Winterfell's voice in my head now. Something about…not climbing in good clothes? Hm…oh, Bran! I realized I _could_ really hear Catelyn. She most likely caught Bran climbing. Again.

I ran in the direction of the voice, finding mother and son fairly quickly. I was getting better at using my heightened senses. I was even starting to get the hang of tracking people by smell.

Catelyn was predictably scolding Bran, and he hesitantly promised he'd stop. But then Catelyn smiled warmly, and told him she knew he was lying because he was looking at his feet. I had to agree that was a pretty obvious tell. I walked over to Summer, who wagged his tail and licked my face.

"Go find your father. Tell him the king is close." Catelyn said gently. Bran didn't need to be told twice. I started to follow with Summer. I'd heard Catelyn talking to Ned about keeping us kenneled while the king visited. I was _not_ going for that. Neither were the kids, who all railed to have us with them as usual. Catelyn relented, as long as none of us got in the way.

If we did it was straight to the kennels. I knew it wasn't an empty threat, but it didn't deter me from running with Bran and Summer, straight up to Ned. He looked down at his son, his normally stoic expression morphing into a small smile. "The king!" Bran yelled. "I saw the king coming! He's close now."

Ned chuckled, reaching out a gloved hand to ruffle Bran's long hair. Why Catelyn didn't make her two youngest sons go for haircuts I still wasn't sure. Bran's bangs were practically in his eyes. "Very well. Go and join your brothers and sisters now. Hurry along." I wondered why Ned didn't join his son, but maybe he'd give out some last minute instructions before meeting his family.

Bran obediently took off again, but this time Summer had gotten distracted by something shepherding a noisy pig by. I rolled my eyes as he started trailing the pig curiously. He'd likely get chased off as soon as he was noticed, but right now I decided I'd follow Bran in my brother's place.

There was quite the crowd amassing already when we got there, and I knew why. The first of the king's party was now in sight. All the Starks had gathered and lined up, Ned going and taking his place beside his wife. Well, almost all. Arya was still missing. I squeezed my way to the back, where Theon and Jon were. I couldn't see well from back there, honestly. So I crept a little closer, poking my head out from near Bran's legs. Much better.

Catelyn started looking around anxiously. "Where's Arya?" she looked at Sansa, with her red hair flowing down her back in her pretty blue cloak. "Sansa, where's your sister?" I heard Catelyn asking in alarm. Sansa shrugged, not looking all that concerned. Her eyes were trained ahead on the royal party. That was when Arya came bolting up to the rest of her family, helmet still clunking on her head.

Ned caught her by the arm when she ran by. "Hey, hey, hey, hey. What are you doing with that on?" He sounded baffled, but a little amused as he pulled off the helmet and handed it to Rodrik Cassel.

Arya made her way down the line to squeeze between her siblings. "Move!" She hissed at Bran, and he clumsily stepped aside to let her in. Robb smiled fondly.

As I expected, the king's entourage was plenty impressive. I'd never seen anything like it before in real life. It sort of reminded me of a historical reenactment, but clearly better.

There were knights in gleaming armor on horses, carrying red flags with golden lions. It was followed by a crimson carriage. Beside the carriage rode a blonde-haired boy in red with a black fur cloak. I immediately decided that one, this must be the prince. And two, there was something about the arrogant look on his face that made me decide I didn't like him. He and Sansa caught eyes and I watched with dissatisfaction as he flashed a cocky smile her way. Sansa swooned, naturally. Robb glanced between the two, his lips pulled tight.

Great. I'd have to do the Starks a solid and run interference on that. Sansa may not get her dream of marrying a prince, but she'd thank me for it later. Sure, she was shallow, mean to Arya half the time and kind of (really) naïve, but that didn't mean she deserved to be condemned to marrying a little jerk. It may have been my animal instincts, but I felt confident I could spot a tool when I saw one.

Besides the boy prince, several other people caught my eyes. A very tall, very imposing looking man with a helmet in the shape of a snarling dog on his head was vigilantly looking down from his horse. He opened the helmet and a gruff face I could barely see peered out. Dude, who needed the Terminator with that guy around?

A very… _portly_ man came riding in last. He looked like he was tall, with brown hair, a grizzly beard and ruddy cheeks.

But when he finally got down from the horse and began slowly making his way to the gathered inhabitants of Winterfell, everyone instantly fell to their knees in respect, heads bowed. Huh. So this was King Robert. I don't know exactly what I was expecting if I'm honest… Maybe a muscular, well-kept man in his late thirties like Ned? I'd heard whispers that the king use to be a pretty fierce warrior. Apparently he didn't keep himself very well after those days. Everyone continued to kneel as he approached so I'd made an effort to hunch down and hide under Bran's cloak. I could just barely see the king stop in front of Ned and motion with his hand several times, wanting him to stand.

When Ned _did_ stand, so did everyone else who was on the ground. I got up too, but I stayed mostly hidden under Bran's cloak. I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to be hanging around and Catelyn would probably chase me to the kennels herself if she saw me.

"Your Grace," I heard Ned saying.

There was an uncomfortable pause. The king was just looking at Ned…

And then, "You've got fat." He said. My jaw dropped. I looked carefully at Ned's reaction. I mean this guy was the king? He couldn't exactly call him a fatass back. Ned's eyes drifted to Robert's rounded middle pointedly. Hah, nice. Then the two men broke out in laughter like they were having some great inside joke, and the tension relaxed considerably. Ned and the king hugged like old friends, which I hear they actually were.

Next the king turned to Lady Stark.

"Cat!" he said warmly.

"Your Grace," she said cordially, but the man grabbed her up in a hug and her words were muffled.

He pulled away and moved back to Ned. "Nine years." King Robert sighed. "Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace." Ned smiled. Actually, smiled. Until now, that was a rarity that seemed to be reserved for his wife and kids. "Winterfell is yours." I blinked. Um…I hope he meant that like…figuratively.

As they spoke, I noticed people stepping out of the ornate carriage that the prince had been riding beside. A handful of women in fancy gowns that looked like they were freezing their asses off. Made me even happier for my fur. That's what they got for putting vanity over functionality. After them were two young kids, a boy and a girl, maybe somewhere between Bran's and Rickon's ages. Both of them were blonde like the prince, looking around wide-eyed. So, the prince wasn't an only child. These kids seemed much younger, and that meant unfortunately, the "right royal prick" was going to get the throne after his father.

Lastly, a beautiful, slender woman wrapped in a snug fur cloak daintily stepped down.

For some reason when I looked at her, a light scowl on her pretty face and her head lifted high, I felt nervous. Without a doubt this was the queen. If I had to draw any comparison, she was like the high school rival that bested you in absolutely every way without even trying.

She was radiant, even against the cold backdrop of Winterfell, and she knew it judging by the way she carried herself. She was the girl that was voted home coming queen without even being on the ballot—a write in. She was the girl that got your boyfriend and all the cool, popular guys from the higher grades. She was the one that made other females feel like they were less of a woman just standing next to her. And she exuded the grace and confidence of some trained supermodel. In my world, she was the sort of person doors opened for, if not because of looks then connections. It wasn't fair, but it's the way it was.

"Where's the imp?" Arya muttered loudly.

"Will you shut up?" Sansa snapped as the queen walked closer. Her cloak billowed behind her in the chill wind and I noticed she wore a bright red dress underneath. The same color as the background of those lion flags…

"Who have we here?" Sansa looked up quickly. Arya stiffened beside her.

But the king was walking toward…Robb. "You must be Robb." He stuck out a large hand for Robb to shake. He didn't waste any time though, moving on down the line of Starks. "My, you're a pretty one." He told Sansa, and she bowed her head and smiled coyly.

"Your name is?" he asked the younger Stark girl.

Arya looked up at the man, chin jutted forward and none of the demureness in her posture that her sister had. "Arya." she said almost defiantly. I tried to hide a quiet laugh, which would have come out as a keening bark and drawn attention to myself. _Oh, Arya, never change._

"Show us your muscles." Robert playfully told Bran. Bran proudly obliged and I grinned. He was still just a little boy, but if he kept up the same training as his brothers, then one day I'm sure he'd be as fit as they were. "You'll be a soldier." He confirmed. Bran beamed.

"What's this?" Oh, shit. The king was looking right at me. Too late to hide under the cloak again. "Five pups wasn't enough, Ned had to go and find actual bloody animals to add to the brood?"

"She's from a litter we saved. Father let us keep them." Bran explained proudly.

"Did he now?" the king raised a brow. "Well, take care of them and I'm sure they'll repay the favor someday." I breathed a sigh of relief. I glanced around, hoping against hope Catelyn didn't catch the exchange. I had a _small_ amount of luck, because it looked like she was whispering to her husband.

Small miracles. I was thankful for small miracales. My eyes roamed over the rest of the assembled newcomers, and I spotted a man as he took off his helmet and shook out his golden hair.

He was very handsome, if you were into that classical, fairytale good looks type. He sort of reminded me of Prince Charming from Shrek 2, with the taking off his helmet to shake out his hair thing. "Look, that's the queen's twin brother, Jaime Lannister!" I heard Arya whisper excitedly.

"Will you please shut up, Arya!" Sansa hissed back. Why was she always so cold to her sister? Arya was just an excited little girl.

The queen strode over to Ned and Catelyn, her chin lifted. She held out her hand expectantly. "My queen…," Ned said, kissing it politely.

"My queen," Catelyn said with an equally polite smile, curtsying.

"Take me to your crypts." Robert announced suddenly. "I want to pay my respects." Wait, what? There were crypts in this castle? I wouldn't say I was superstitious, exactly. But I also wouldn't say I didn't care that the Starks had dead people under their home.

"We've been riding for a month, my love." The queen said coolly. "Surely the dead can wait."

Everyone seemed to sense the tension. Except maybe Robert, who blatantly ignored her. "Ned." He said again. That put Lord Stark in a pretty awkward position. He glanced at the queen apologetically, and then followed Robert, who looked like he knew exactly where he was going…

Wow. I wondered if I was the only one who couldn't believe what I'd just seen.

Arya, never one for propriety, whispered again. "Where's the imp?" Sansa ignored her.

What the hell did she mean _imp_? I would only be half-surprised to find there were mischievous woodland creatures around. This time the queen seemed to hear her. She marched back over to the knight, her brother. With my sensitive hearing I picked up on her words easily. "Where _is_ our brother? Go and find the little beast." Okay…so there was apparently no love lost between the queen and her absent brother. So far, the royal family, or at least the relationship between the king and queen, came off as frigid and dysfunctional. Was I _really_ surprised though? This was a period in time where arranged marriages abounded and loveless love lives were the norm.

"Your Grace," Catelyn cleared her throat gently, stepping forward with a warm smile for the queen. "Why don't you come with me and I will show you and your party to their chambers." I had to give Cat props. She was determined to salvage this and be a good host.

The queen, whose name I still didn't know, smiled thinly. "Yes, I grow weary of standing out in the cold."

"Well then, shall we?" Catelyn offered the queen her arm the way I'd often see lords around here offer ladies. The queen took it, and things seemed to be set in motion again. Her children, including that shady prince, followed behind her, and everyone slowly broke apart when Catelyn walked past with her.

I found my way back over to Robb, Jon and Theon. They were talking amongst themselves. "I told you," Theon was saying triumphantly, raising his brows. "A sleek bit of mink." He glanced around conspiratorially, grinning. I saw his eyes fall on the queen's retreating figure, landing on her backside. "Forget the girls the prince gets to fuck, could you imagine having _that_ in your—"

"You'd best hold your tongue." Jon cautioned. "Speaking so freely about the queen like that could get you killed. The king isn't fond of Greyjoys anyway." Why didn't the king like Greyjoys, I wondered. But well, if they all acted like Theon I guess I could almost understand.

Theon's eyes flashed sharply as he glared at Jon. I could see he was working up to a particularly nasty insult. He threw them at Jon often enough, and it was one of the many things that annoyed me about my "master". Robb he joked with, like a brother. But when he talked to Jon, a lot of his "jokes" seemed designed to push the right (or was it wrong?) buttons.

I first found out Jon's relation to the family when I figured out Theon meant "bastard" in the literal sense. That was when Catelyn's attitude clicked. Not that it made a difference to me. Jon would always be the nice one who looked out for me.

Anyway, I decided to get them to notice me. I barked several times, but I didn't stop there. Pretending I was really happy to see Theon, I jumped at him, successfully hitting him right in the crotch. He groaned, crumpling instantly and clutching at his bits. Jon and Robb exchanged a look and then burst out laughing. I grinned. I was pretty proud of myself for that one.

"By the Drowned God!" Theon yelled, cracking one eye open to direct his attention at me. I had no idea what drowning God had to do with it, but whatever helps people get through the pain I guess.

"You can't be angry with her." Robb's laughter had died down into quiet chuckles. "She's finally warming to you." …Yeah, let's go with that.

"Aye." Jon agreed, a crooked smile on his lips. "It's all in love."

Then the brothers started giggling together again.

"Piss off, the both of you." Theon said through clenched teeth. He seemed to be feeling better since he'd taken his hand away from his groin and straightened himself back up. "And you," he stared at me accusingly, but I just maintained my innocent façade. "Heel." Humoring him, I sat down patiently. Theon looked triumphant. "She knows who is master between the two of us."

"Aye. She's trained you to underestimate her well." Robb agreed, winking at me. I almost winked back, but then I figured that'd creep him out. "We should head inside. If we get ourselves dirty while we have guests, it won't matter what Theon says about the queen, because Mother will take our heads herself." he rolled his eyes.

Something told me that was only half a joke. Catelyn had been high-strung about this visit for a while so I didn't doubt there'd be hell to pay if anyone ruined anything while the royal family was around.

It wouldn't stop me from doing what I did best: poking around. I was just a simple pup, how could I possibly know what I was doing if I raised a little hell. I walked with my tail and head held high as we entered the castle, passing Sansa and her friends Jeyne and Beth, who were loudly gushing about the prince, thinking they were being discreet.

Ah, yes. I was definitely gonna nip that in the bud. I had a feeling that I was going to do a lot of things I probably shouldn't soon. Time as a wolf had awakened a side of myself I hadn't known before. A mischievous, more carefree side. And soon, she'd run wild.

* * *

 **Opal's little plans go into effect next chapter, and then there's the feast and a few other canon events. But who knows how much her lack of knowledge and willfull interference will change things for the better or worse?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Just a head's up that if you're a stickler for canon staying untouched then this fic likely isn't for you. Once Arden starts meddling ripple-effects are bound to happen. Of course I'll try to make sure that they're not just arbitrary I'm-changing-things-because-I-can switches. More like for-every-action-there's-an-equal-and-opposite reaction. You'll all likely see what I mean going forward. Glad everyone enjoys her antics, by the way. There's a fine line between making a character funny and annoying, and I definitely wanted her to be funny and sort of relatable.**

 **In some of the coming scenes of this chapter, I merged book and show events in case anyone is curious.**

 **As for someone thinking this story was abandoned just because it'd been two months between updates… Two months isn't that long? If you read my previous ANs, I said I'm a full time grad school student who doesn't have much time to update and wouldn't even** _ **consider**_ **promising consistent updates at** _ **least**_ **until the holiday season starts. Remember to review, people!**

* * *

The king and his entourage hadn't been in Winterfell long, but I found out I hated Prince Joffrey more with every hour. Hate is a strong word, I admit. I didn't even hate Theon. I sort of accepted he was the way he is, but I just thought screwing with him was fun. But, hatred was my word of choice when it came to Joffrey, and it was a well-deserved one in this instance. Erase from your mind all conjurings of Disney princes: noble, brave and willing to lay down their lives for the honor of some singing girl they barely know.

Nope. Not Joffrey. Maybe he had the _looks_ of a prince, but all similarities ended there. He was just a little boy to me, so I couldn't say I was into a thirteen-year old, but clearly girls closer to his age like Sansa and her friends found him easy on the eyes. Tall (for his age) with gold hair and green eyes and a smile that came across sickeningly fake to me. Blame my animal instincts, I guess. Nevertheless, arrogance had a smell. Literally. And it clung to the prince like perfume.

It was an acrid smell, like well-burned toast, so strong it made my nose scrunch when he was close. And Prince Joffrey? He was all burnt toast and…weirdly enough, roses. It made me really look long and hard, because it was almost like he stole his mom's favorite fragrance and then decided to dab it on. I was sure roses were what everyone else smelled when he walked by. But I got the _pleasure_ of the incredibly sweet scent of roses mixing with the burnt toast aroma.

If I told someone I hated the prince, I'm sure they'd question what he'd ever done to me. It could've been the way he pushed past his younger brother and sister, almost knocking them down so he could be first and closest to his mother, the queen. It also might have been the bored, haughty eyes he looked at everything and everyone from Winterfell with. Even Sansa, who he had smiled for, got a sneer when her back was turned. Still, these things would normally only merit irritation and not hatred, yes?

What sealed it was a remark he had made as Robb showed him to his room. Sansa had escorted the princess to hers, much to the red-haired girl's delight about speaking to a princess—even one who was younger than her— and Catelyn put Arya in charge of showing the smaller prince his room. Arya wasn't half so honored as her sister but she grudgingly obeyed.

Robb wasn't really trying to make much small talk with Joffrey as Grey Wind and I trailed behind them, the prince's guards trailing further back. As soon as we'd reentered the castle, he'd come bounding over to Robb. Grey Wind was nicer to me these days, now that his energy had an outlet. Robb kept him active and gave him structure. That was something he hadn't had when we were all living in the woods as wild pups.

So, while we still wrestled and chased and Grey Wind still won, I'd gotten better at fighting back. One time I'd even pinned him and Theon had whooped and crowed to Robb about having the better wolf. Robb had reminded him it was one time I'd won out of dozens. It didn't stop me nor Theon from being pleased over my win.

The prince kept glancing back at us. "Your father actually allows you to keep such beasts?" he asked skeptically. "Those are wolves, not hounds." There was no way Joffrey could look at the two of us, the size of husky puppies now, and see that one day we'd grow big enough to eat him. I was hoping, at least. He'd be long gone back to wherever he came from by then, but if I got as big as Mama Wolf I'd be able to fantasize.

"Direwolves." Robb corrected him like his father had once corrected Theon in the forest. "The gods have blessed us with the sigil of our House."

"They'll turn savage one day, you know." The prince stated matter-of-factly. " _I_ only have the very best hunting hounds at home. And I know they'd never turn against me. But a direwolf is a beast and knows know loyalty."

I could tell Robb was getting agitated by the prince's attitude. "They're plenty loyal, as long as they aren't being beaten or neglected."

Joffrey snorted loudly, like Robb said something naïve. "How else does a dog know its place but a good beating when he forgets who his master is?" I glared at the prince's back. As if I didn't need more proof that he was a scum lord.

"It's as you say, my prince," Robb said steadily, "A wolf is no dog, and a direwolf is even less of one. Beating them as pups almost assures that they _will_ turn savage."

"Starks value savagery, don't they? That's why they babble on about winter and keep company with other wolves." The prince laughed and his guards laughed with him.

Robb stopped short and the people trailing behind him and Joffrey almost ran into them. "Ours is an unforgiving land. Savagery ensures survival sometimes. When Winter comes, I'd rather be a savage than a prince." Robb grinned and there _was_ something almost wolf like about him just then.

I barked, my tail wagging furiously. If I had hands I'd be clapping. _Way to put that bitch-boy in his place!_ Joffrey grew quiet, his lips in a taut line and his brows pulled down in anger. He was too flustered to respond. He'd thought he was being clever before, taunting Robb, but clearly his wit had its limits.

I heard a quiet snicker, disguised as a cough with my sensitive ears, and I swore it came from the guy that had been wearing the dog helmet. He was tall and broad with horrifying burn scars on half his face. And it sounded like he knew a good diss when he heard one. "I hope you find your rooms to your liking." Robb said, pointing to a door we'd stopped in front of.

Robb didn't wait for the prince to say something else offensive, he turned around with his head held high. Grey Wind and I followed him. _Hey,_ I told my brother, poking his neck with my nose. _Your master's pretty damn cool._ Grey Wind had an almost proud glint in his gold eyes.

* * *

I hadn't seen Theon in hours and that was just fine with me. He was probably up the skirt of one of the queen's handmaidens by now. That was what he'd told Robb his plan was anyway. Nights like these I stayed well away from his bedroom and roamed the halls quietly. I knew I'd be at a risk of being sent straight to the kennels if I was caught, especially with the royals visiting, but I didn't care. No one understood what it was like trying to sleep under a bed with the smell of sex in the air while it was…in use.

So, I was fine hanging out with Robb and Grey Wind. And later Jon and Ghost. After escorting the little butthead that was the prince, Robb found Jon and they were back outside. Supposedly it was to swordfight, but it ended up being mostly talking. I think they both just needed air. Robb told Jon what Joffrey had said and how the prince basically insulted the family that was hosting his ungrateful ass. When Robb told him the response he'd given, the black-haired boy smirked and clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"I imagine you've made an enemy out of our dear prince, Stark."

"I'll take my chances." Robb stated firmly. "He's as much a prick as they say. I would bet on the Lannister's gold he's even more a green boy than Bran! He's likely never even swung a sword before. And gods be good if Sansa gets her wish and Father agrees to marry her to him."

"Sansa doesn't understand what she asks for. But Father will see through the prince's pleasantries." Jon reassured. Robb didn't really look convinced.

"If the king commands it…it will be done, even if Father doesn't want to." Robb said. "They grew up as close as brothers, Father won't want to offend him." Their swords were all but forgotten now, gripped loosely in their hands, the tips in the dirt.

 _Yeah, but…what good's a brother if you can't tell him where to stick it when he's asking for the impossible?_ I didn't realize I'd been talking out loud until I felt both boys looking down at me.

"Since she's with you I suppose I know where Theon is."

"Working his way under a handmaiden's skirts tonight, if all goes well…" Robb confirmed.

Normally I'd be annoyed because that basically meant I couldn't sleep under the bed. I wasn't much of a voyeur. Theon possibly having "company" didn't matter tonight though. I had other plans, anyway.

Robb looked up at the sky and sighed. "The sun will be setting in a few hours… Tonight we sup…with Lannisters." he grimaced. Arya's words rang in my head. The queen's brother, Jaime _Lannister_.

" _You_ sup with them you mean. I'll be in the kitchens." Jon said quietly.

Robb frowned. "You can't leave me to eat with that prick Joffrey. Theon won't be much help once he's had a few cups."

"Your mother's already spoken to me, Robb. Having a bastard anywhere near the royal family would offend them." He recited almost robotically. "I could always sit with the servants, but I think I'd prefer the kitchens."

"Jon…" Robb had a sort of quiet frustration in his eyes at the moment. I shared the sentiment. Catelyn was being petty and excluding Jon. Again. Maybe it was for a logical reason. I didn't know how the king would react but the queen definitely seemed like she might take offense, with the way she looked down on everything and everyone, a trait she shared with her uppity oldest son. Still, Jon was a brother to her children and a son to her husband.

Robb slowly placed a hand on his shoulder. "At least come to the feast. Sit with the servants if you must, and if you don't want to be there, you can leave." I had to admit that right now I was feeling like I could kiss Robb for trying to include Jon as much as he possibly could, given the circumstances.

Jon's full lips pursed, and then slowly parted in a sigh. "Fine, Stark, as you wish…" he muttered.

Robb's lips curled into a triumphant smile, his blue eyes sparkling. Wow. No wonder some of Sansa's friends were infatuated.

I turned to Grey Wind, who had been sitting beside me. _You're lucky, you know. You get a nice guy who's easy on the eyes and I get…well, you know…_

Grey Wind made a quiet grunt that I interpreted as a snort. He thought I was being melodramatic. I turned to Ghost who was laying quietly, breathing through his nose. _Feel free to get in on this and tell him I'm right at any time._ He averted his bright red eyes. His way of saying he refused to get involved. _Some help you are!_ I scolded him.

"What do you suppose they're saying?" I almost jumped out of my fur. I forgot Robb and Jon were still there. They were now watching us curiously.

Jon thought about it. "I don't know. The world must be much different for them."

I smiled wryly. ' _Oh, you have_ no _idea…_ '

* * *

The only word to describe the Great Hall at dinner was chaotic. I'd never seen so many people in here. I didn't know it could _fit_ this many people. I snuck in early, when the hall was still filling up, because if Catelyn saw me it was curtains. I was sitting at the table with Jon and the servants, watching from underneath along with Ghost. Not sure how Jon snuck him in but I didn't mind the company.

New banners had been added. There was always a white banner with a grey wolf, but now there was that red banner with the lion on it. And a yellow banner with a black stag. I had guessed that they were to honor the king and queen. Just like the Starks had an animal to represent their family, the royal couple had animals too.

Speaking of the royal family, they were featured front and center at the head of the hall with the Starks (and Theon). Their entrance had been made after everyone else was seated, to make the most impact. Naturally. Ned came with the queen on his arm, and all eyes were on them. More specifically on the queen, really.

She had on a different dress, a deep green one with a bodice and a slight train. Her hair was pinned in some kind of intricate design that looked almost Star Wars inspired, and she had a tiara with emeralds in it on her head. An actual fucking tiara! Her eyes were cold as she glanced at the people watching her. I sort of saw where Joffrey got it from.

The king and Catelyn were next. He looked uncomfortable in his silk outfit, like he was already sweating. There was a crown on his fat head, so nobody mistook him for a sweaty humbug—I'm just saying, if I didn't know better I wouldn't think he was a king.

It was little Rickon who came next. He was looking somewhat grumpy, and I wonder if it's because they took Shaggy Dog away and put him outside. Catelyn didn't trust him to roam free around the royal family. He was still just a pup like the rest of us, but she thought he was too unpredictable.

When Rickon saw Jon on his way to the table designated for the Stark and royal children, he stopped, smiling widely at seeing a familiar face. "Jon!" he said. "What're you doing down here?" He grabbed Jon's hand and tried to pull him to his feet. "C'mon," My heart broke a little as Jon smiled uncomfortably and tried to gently take his hand back from the persistent six-year old.

It had slowed up the procession and people were starting to stare. Robb came running up, letting go of the princess in the process to grab Rickon's arm and whisper in his ear. Whatever he said made Rickon frown, and he looked at Jon one last time before he kept marching by. Robb went back to the princess and apologized, offering her his arm again. The little girl took it with a shy smile, and the walk continued. Jon looked like he wanted to sink down into his seat, embarrassed. I didn't blame him. It didn't mean I didn't think it was cute of Rickon.

Robb rejoined the princess, who was dressed up as much as her mother and kept looking up at Robb nervously. It was like she was afraid he'd let her trip or something.

Then Arya came with the second prince, the younger one. He was looking at his feet, mostly. Arya looked like she was doing her best not to show how annoyed she was to be escorting a prince _and_ in a dress.

The last "couple" to enter was Sansa and the right royal prick. The redhead was looking pretty and proud in her no doubt hand-made grey dress. Her red hair caught the light and made it shine. She was smiling softly, truly looking like a princess. Joffrey was…well it doesn't really matter how he looked. If what he was like on the inside translated to his outward appearance people would run screaming from the room at his hideousness. As it was, all the ugly was hidden in a well-wrapped smug blonde package. That package was walking with Sansa to take his seat with the rest of the kids.

Bran walked by himself, not looking as nervous as I expected him to. He kept his eyes facing forward and took measured steps. Every now and again he'd look down at the back of Sansa's dress. I grinned when I realized he was trying to make sure he didn't step on it. But if he did, she'd fall and then Joffrey would go down with her. Any way the prince could be humiliated was fine by me. It's not like I'd _want_ Sansa to be hurt or embarrassed in front of a room full of people. She'd just be…a necessary sacrifice.

Sadly, Bran didn't accidentally trip Sansa so Joffrey didn't fall either.

I thought Bran would be the last one to walk in, but apparently I was wrong. The man I recognized as the queen's twin brother. The tall knight with the Prince Charming looks and cocky smile. I don't really know how to feel about that guy… Walking beside him was a small man with golden hair swept slightly into his face. He looked sort of like…like a blonde Peter Dinklage!

Maybe it was my imagination. I _know_ Jon looked just like his actor, but I'm pretty sure that was just my brain trying to make sense of this weird ass coma dream. And then Ned started looking like Sean Bean. Now Peter Dinklage… Yeah, this is weird.

The Dinklage-lookalike didn't look too happy to be there, whoever he was…

Theon, of all people, came swaggering in last. He looked smug and fully sated and when he caught eyes with some girl sitting with the rest of the royal servants, he smirked. Gross. I thought pretty hard about tripping him for shits and giggles when he walked by. I almost did it, but Ghost got in my way, damnit. The opportunity passed, and Theon went to sit with everybody else.

I still didn't understand why Jon wasn't up there. That was _his_ family, not Theon's. I mean Catelyn was so worried about Jon offending guests…had she even _met_ Theon? He'd tell dirty jokes right in front of the princess without a second thought. He'd probably detail his latest conquest too.

After the entire royal family was seated, the first thing Robert did was make a toast. "To the prosperity of Houses Stark and Baratheon!" he shouted.

"To the king and queen and their beautiful children!" said Catelyn, smiling. Everyone toasted and gave thanks, and then the hall just erupted in even more noise than before. The air smelled like fresh bread, roasted meat, and _lots_ of wine.

Even though I was under the table, I kept my tail tucked under me. Nobody was gonna step on it tonight! There was a lot of talk from just above me. Every once and a while I'd look up to check on Jon. He seemed to be doing alright. I mean he almost always looked serious, but if nothing else he was enjoying the wine apparently. I watched him break a piece of meat off from the giant leg on his plate and pass some to Ghost.

I knew I was supposed to be on a mission, but my mouth started watering and before I could stop myself, I was nosing his hand when he stuck it back under the table with another piece. He looked down and jumped, probably expecting to see Ghost. "Opal?" he whispered.

 _Yeah, "Opal", the one and only. Gonna drop that?_ I nudged at his hand harder and he relented and gave up the chicken. Holy shit, it was good. Juicy and the skin was sort of sweet, like there was honey on it. I was savoring the chicken in my mouth when I felt something that almost made me scream. A cold, wet nose…just south of the tail.

I turned around, roaring fury to see some dumb dog trying to get all up in my ass. Literally. I smacked him with my paw so hard it tingled. He yelped, scampering away. _Try it again, I dare you!_ I growled after him, noticing for the first time there were lots of dogs at this end of the hall. No wonder nobody said anything about Jon sneaking scraps under the table. Every damn dog for miles must be lurking around the servant table! I sat down hard. Nobody could sniff my ass if I sat on it the whole night. The only problem _there_ was I had plans for the evening. Not exactly a hot date, but still plans.

I scooted across the floor on my butt in case any of those perverted dogs were hanging around and carefully craned my head out from under the table. It was _really_ hard to see from down here! I still wasn't all that large. I looked at Jon, but he was listening to some story the other half-drunk guys at the table were telling.

I ducked back under the table, quickly deciding I was going to army crawl my way across feet if I had to. That's exactly what I did. It took some time, and every now and then I had to make sure there were no dogs behind me, but I could finally smell the familiar scent of burnt toast and roses right above me. I had to be careful. This was enemy territory and failure was _not_ an option. I peeked up, seeing Joffrey was smiling across the table at who I could only assume was Sansa. _'We'll see who's smiling when I'm done with you.'_

I waited impatiently for Joffrey to pick up his chalice again. He took a small sip, and then a deeper swig. Before he could get it all down, I moved like lightning, headbutting him as hard as possible the same way I did Theon earlier. Two things happened simultaneously. He almost choked on a squeal, coughing and sputtering out whatever he was drinking while he grabbed for his balls. The other thing that happened was he'd spit some out…right into Sansa's face. Yep. That should do it.

She shrieked, and I could hear a few gasps of surprise, and then the laughter of Robb, Arya and Theon. I didn't stick around though. I ran as fast as I could back into the sea of legs before anybody thought to check under the table. I didn't stop, not even when a swinging leg caught me in the side. I was winded, but I kept going all the way back to Jon's table.

When I reached it I slammed the brakes so hard I skidded into his leg. He looked down, shocked to see me, panting hard but grinning in victory. "What's the matter, girl? What's gotten into you?" he whispered, reaching a hand down and gently petting my head.

' _I'm sure Robb'll tell you all about it later. Well, what he saw anyway.'_ I thought, collapsing on my stomach. Ghost brushed up beside me, trying to nudge his head against Jon's hand. The next thing I knew, Jon had dropped half a chicken down for us. The smell from this close was heavenly. I wasn't about to let Ghost get it all either. I attacked one side and he got the other. Once upon a time this would have all been insane if someone had told me I'd be sharing a chicken with a wolf and headbutting princes in the balls. Funny what near-death experiences do to people.

I felt something brush by me again, coarse fur at my side. I turned my head, still chewing, and saw some random black dog with yellow eyes was making a move on the chicken. It was three times my size with pricked ears and a curled tail.

She started to growl, and I glared. Ghost bared his teeth silently, but she was still edging way too close to our dinner. I smacked her hard in the face, catching her across the eye with my claws. I'm not for hurting animals unnecessarily. Let the records show that Arden Stein is not and never will be an animal abuser. But _Opal_ was a wolf pup. And wolves didn't let dogs take food from under their noses.

The dog reared back, yelping loudly. She shook herself, her teeth snapping in a threat. I lifted my paw in warning. I think the pain was still ingrained into her, because she thought better of trying to take on two wolf pups, and slowly backed away. She still growled to save face, but it was clearly all for show. I barked after her tauntingly. It felt like my inner wolf was proud at having successfully defeated a challenger and shown my dominance.

"Are these the direwolves I've heard so much of?" An unfamiliar voice said from somewhere above. I jerked my head left and right. I probably looked ridiculous because there was chicken hanging out of my mouth.

"Uncle Benjen!" Jon said happily, standing to hug a man that had appeared from nowhere. Uncle…? I felt like being nosey, so I looked up into the man's face. Sure enough, he bore a striking resemblance to Jon. Or maybe Jon looked like him? Either way I saw the resemblance perfectly. Dark hair, a long face and grey eyes. Hah! He looked like a younger Ned. Jon seemed to remember the question as he sat back down, but he was still smiling. It was nice to see him look his age. "Yes," Jon patted his leg and Ghost put his head on it. "This one's mine. His name is Ghost." People suddenly were making room at the table, and the man dressed from head to toe in black sat down beside Jon.

His uncle nodded. "And the other? The one with the…strange eyes?" I huffed. I had almost gotten use to my heterochromia and then he had to go and remind me.

"She's not mine…" Jon mumbled. "She's…you remember Father's ward, right?"

"The Greyjoy boy. Ah, yes." This _Benjen_ 's lips were twisted into a wry smile, like he knew exactly who Theon was. Probably reliving some unpleasant memory. Theon had that effect on people.

"She's his. But she comes and goes as she pleases. Sometimes she's with me or Robb or the others."

"Nothing wrong with being a bit free-spirited." Benjen said. "It's the way direwolves are. Can't keep them where they don't want to be."

I nodded. ' _Damn right._ '

I watched him pluck the cup out of Jon's hand and drain it. Jon had been hitting the wine pretty hard since the feast started. But he seemed okay so I hadn't been that worried. "Summerwine." Benjen said. "Nothing so sweet." I licked my lips. I could go for a glass of that right now. But _noooo_ because wolves couldn't have alcohol. What a crock. "How many cups have you had, Jon?" he asked calmly.

Jon didn't immediately answer, and his uncle laughed slightly. He explained how he was younger than Jon the first time he got drunk, and then looked down at Ghost and I again. "They're very quiet wolves."

"Ghost is. That's why I named him Ghost. That and his color. Opal's quiet when she needs to be, but she likes to tell exactly what's on her mind."

If wolves could blush I'd be blushing. Jon totally just threw me under the bus! He was just lucky we were cool or I'd give him the headbutt treatment.

"It's a rarity a lady gets to speak her mind and be heard." Benjen said, "We can't fault her for taking the opportunity." Yeah. Yeah, what he said! You know, you're alright Uncle Benjen. "There are still lots of direwolves beyond the Wall. We hear them on our rangings." Benjen said, picking up a piece of roasted onion and biting into it. There it was again…What was "the Wall?"

They talked about it like it was more than _just_ a wall. Maybe…maybe it was like the Great Wall of China! It sounded sort of stupid but it was all I could think of. And rangings? Was he a wildlife ranger?

When Benjen had polished off the onion, he turned back to Jon, who had started picking over what was left on his plate. "Why aren't you sitting with your brothers and sisters?"

Jon flatly explained Lady Stark's reason.

' _And yet, she's totally fine with Theon Greyjoy corrupting the royal kids. Well, the little ones anyway. It's too late for Joffrey.'_

"Ah, I see…" Benjen nodded. "Well, my brother does not look too festive tonight, does he?" Again, I pushed my way to the edge of the table and craned my neck. At the front of the hall, Robert was bellowing loudly with laugher, his cheeks bright red and his cup outstretched for more. Wolves can't whistle but I did it mentally. My God, he looked just like Charles Dickens' Ghost of Christmas Present. If he had on a gaudy green robe and a crown of mistletoe he'd be the spitting image. I watched with disgust as he grabbed the girl who'd just poured his drink and pulled her into his lap. Instead of pushing away and refusing his advances, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in, her lips puckered.

My opinion of the king lowered several times in the span of a second. It was one thing for Theon to be a horny, careless teenage boy, because he wasn't a _king_. What's worse was the king was doing it right in front of his wife. The queen sat right beside Catelyn, watching with pursed lips and cold green eyes.

"Queen Cersei is angry too." Jon was saying. So that was her name…Cersei. That was…a weird name. "The king went down to the crypts earlier, but the queen didn't want him to go."

"You don't miss much, do you, Jon?" Benjen asked in amusement. "We could use a man like you at the Wall."

My head lifted. At the Wall…so it really was a place and not just a Wall, and if I worked with my tentative theory that it was similar to what the Great Wall had been when it was first built…then did that mean Benjen wanted Jon to go…guard it? As a soldier? "So take me with you!" he said suddenly. "Father will let me if you ask him. I know he will." I was…pretty surprised. I had no idea what the Wall was or what Benjen did there, but by the look on his uncle's face, Jon was asking for something pretty serious.

"The Wall isn't going anywhere, Jon."

"I'm ready to swear your oath." Oh crap, there was oath-swearing involved. It _was_ serious! Ghost even looked like he was listening in as he gnawed lazily on a bone. I thought about taking it away from him so he wouldn't choke, but he was a wolf, not a dog, so he should be fine. Plus, this conversation needed my full attention.

"You don't understand what you'd be giving up…" Benjen said. "We have no families and none of us will ever father sons." An oath of…celibacy? Is that what going to "the Wall" meant? I guess that wasn't _so_ bad. I had been celibate for close to three years and aside from the occasional itch, I was fine.

"I don't care about that!" Jon insisted.

"You might. If you knew what it meant." He stood slowly, squeezing Jon's shoulder. "We'll talk about it later." Benjen stood up, and I noticed for the first time he was tall and lean. He waded his way down the table until he was within range of a very miserable looking Ned and the rest of the Starks.

Jon looked down at his plate, hands clenched tight. I didn't get it. I had no idea why he suddenly looked like he was pissed off, but about to cry at the same time. He stood up so fast he almost knocked his chair on the ground. Ghost bolted from under the table to follow as Jon pushed his way past serving girls, his head down.

I saw him rub at his face quickly and I figured he was pretty upset. I didn't know whether to follow him or give him space. Ghost was already going to be with him, and what good would a pep talk he couldn't understand do? Especially because even if he could understand, I don't know why he was upset.

I glanced up just in time to hear Sansa shriek for the second time that night. There was food on her face that Jeyne Poole was attempting to clean off, and Robb was hoisting a laughing Arya into his arms. "She always does this!" Sansa ranted. "She thinks it's funny but it's not! It's not funny!" Her voice was so high and distressed I could hear her clearly from all the way down here.

I watched for a minute, smirking in Joffrey's direction, before I realized I'd lost track of Jon. I could probably find him if I wanted. I had to get out of this hall and sniff him out. I felt like…Jon and I were friends. And even if I couldn't offer the kind of moral support a human being could, I should at least check on him to make sure he was alright…

I heaved myself up, snapping at the nose of a dog who thought it'd be a good time to go for my ass again. ' _The things I do for this family._ ' I was irritated as I picked my way out of the hall, trying not to get my tail stepped on. I would just make sure Jon was doing okay. And then I'd plan for tonight…

Tonight. It was going to be a busy one.

* * *

 **Finals/crunch time is here. I snuck this update in, but don't expect any more until** **at least** **sometime in December. So, reviews for this early holiday gift would be very much appreciated.**

 **In case anyone is wondering why Arden only thinks some people look like actors from the real world, I figure it's like this—since she was never a fan of the show and didn't watch, she simply doesn't recognize everybody. But she's familiar enough with certain actor's work outside Game of Thrones to think the characters look like them.**

 **I'm also still not gonna guarantee a final pairing just yet. I know it seems like it's totally Jon/Arden right now, and I'm not saying it's not a possibility, but trust me, lots more planned for our wolf girl in the future. ;)**

 **I hope everyone enjoyed Opal messing with Joffrey a little. She does a lot more of that next chapter. A lot, lot more. XD**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for being patient while I handled school related stuff! Fingers crossed I did well because I haven't gotten final grades back yet…**

 **Anyway, I…I honestly cannot believe how fast the favorite/follow count shot up since last chapter. Was not expecting that. I also got over ten reviews for last chapter and that's a record for this story thus far so cheers to that, too.**

 **I admit I was a little nervous about starting this story because at the time I'd barely been into the fandom a month and I still had so much I was learning, but the idea wouldn't go away so I ended up taking on the challenge. So thanks to the readers for embracing this story! It means a lot.**

 **Some things I've been musing over as I decide what major events will be changed and what will stay the same. Either Jon's still going to the Wall or Ned's still going South (probably). Or would I be taking the easy way out if I left everyone in Winterfell (for now)?**

 **More merging of the show/book's different takes on the same scenes this chapter.**

 **Only warning I can give is for mean pranks played on Joffrey, I guess?**

* * *

I didn't run into anyone in the halls of the castle, because literally almost everyone was at the feast. Jon's scent trail was fresh and I eagerly followed it. Even if I lost it, I could have followed Ghost's. I was pretty proud of myself. I remembered how hard it use to be to sniff anyone out, even from short distances. But I'd been practicing, figuring it might be a good survival skill to have since GPS wouldn't be a thing for another thousand years, for all I knew.

My blood was pumping, a deep surge of…freedom and exhilaration was bubbling up inside. The wolf. Ever since I opened my eyes, I learned I had to compete with someone…well, something else for dominance of my own mind. The spirit of the wolf that constantly warred with my humanity. It wasn't exactly like living with a voice in my head.

But I'd get urges…cravings for raw meat, a need to pin the other pups during play wrestling, and when the sky got dark and speckled with stars, I wanted to get outside and howl. None of those urges were really mine, which was something it took me a while to figure out. This body came with more than cool night vision and a better sense of smell. It came with wolf needs and wolf wants that I was always repressing. Who the hell knew what would happen if I let it loose?

Still, sometimes she slipped through the cracks. Like now. The wolf thought she was on the prowl, tracking down a scent. Every time the scents of Jon and Ghost got sharper and stronger, she was more excited.

When the clean night air filled my nose, as I stepped outside, a low rumble bubbled up. The wolf was pleased to be free of the stuffy castle full of strange-smelling people. ' _Don't get used to it. I'm still calling the shots._ ' I pushed her down, mentally pretending to lock her away.

I stumbled through the dark scenting the air until I got to the practice yard. It was empty, save for two silhouettes I'd recognize anywhere. I was just in time to see Jon grabbing a sword and heading toward a dummy he'd dragged out. He lifted the sword high above his head, the steel glinting in the moonlight, and brought it down hard. Ghost stood to the side, silent as always, and I watched from the shadows as Jon landed blow after angry blow.

It was clear he was bubbling with rage and needed to release it _somehow_. Better on a dummy stuffed with straw than an actual person. If that were a person, Jon would've either been a murderer or a dead man. I wasn't knowledgeable enough in swordplay to know which, but I know any technique he had with a sword was completely abandoned. It was just hacking and slashing in the most literal sense.

So unless the "person" he was fighting was buzzed out of their mind or defenseless, they'd probably be able to disarm him. I sighed, and my breath blew out in a vapor cloud. Guess it was colder out here than I thought. Wolves were apparently built for this because I felt perfectly comfortable.

I waited a while, letting Jon vent on the dummy until he finally lowered his sword, panting and out of breath. I thought about if I should approach him now or wait.

"I saw you at the feast. Your uncle's in the Night's Watch." Jon turned quickly, and I did too.

It was the small man that walked into the hall with Jaime Lannister. He ambled along, holding a leather pouch. He took a sip from it as he walked closer to Jon. A wineskin. "What are you doing out here?"

The moonlight illuminated his little body as he went and leaned against the post. Jon studied him curiously.

"Preparing for the rest of the night with your family," he took another deep swig. He smirked when the wineskin left his lips. "Mostly though, I'm preparing for the rest of the night with mine." There was something to be said about a guy that had to drink to prepare himself to spend time with his own family…

Family.

I suddenly remembered what the queen said when they first got here. She told the knight to find "our brother". Arya had asked about an "imp" and the queen had followed up with calling her mysterious brother a "little beast". It dawned on me that all those names belonged to the same person. This person.

Yikes. Didn't anyone around here understand the correct term was "little people"?

"I've always wanted to see the Wall." The small man continued musingly.

"You're Tyrion Lannister." Jon said slowly. "The queen's brother?"

I edged even closer, curious. I was right. This was the "little beast". The queen's other brother. I could see Tyrion Lannister's expression and his lips were drawn solemnly at the mention of the queen. "My greatest accomplishment." he said drily. His head slowly turned in Ghost's direction. "Say, is that animal a wolf?" he asked. He sounded fascinated.

"A direwolf." Jon corrected. I was now used to members of the Stark family correcting people who assumed we were wolves. It was almost sort of a running joke situation, the way I imagined it:

" _It's a poodle!"_

" _It's a German shepherd!"_

" _It's a wolf!"_

" _No, it's a_ **direwolf.** _"_

"Might I have a closer look at him?" the small man was asking when I came out of lala land.

Jon seemed hesitant, but he called for Ghost and the white wolf went obediently, although he seemed a little wary of the Lannister. I still hadn't revealed myself yet, watching the exchange from the shadows.

Tyrion Lannister (apparently his _real_ name) moved closer, reaching out for Ghost. My brother backed away, growling a little. "Seems he's a bit shy."

"Ghost, sit," said Jon. Ghost glanced up at Jon with glowing red eyes, and then sat. "You can touch him now."

Tyrion Lannister stroked Ghost on the head, between his ears. The white wolf's body language was still sort of stiff, but he didn't try to turn and snap at his hand. All wolves, I'd learned, enjoyed a nice pet between the ears. "Nice wolf," he said softly. Then he craned his head back to look at Jon. The height difference was pretty pronounced. "You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you? The Snow?"

Jon stiffened, moving away from the small man without a word. He'd left the table because something about the conversation with his uncle had upset him. Now, he was upset again.

I felt my ears flatten against my head and a growl leave my throat. I couldn't tell who it was from, me or the wolf. I was offended on Jon's behalf whenever anyone rubbed that in his face. The wolf sensed the shift in Jon's emotions and perceived Lannister as a threat to a packmate. My feet carried me closer, my belly low to the ground. I froze, realizing the wolf was trying to stalk Tyrion Lannister.

"I've offended you." said Tyrion. "Sorry. Dwarves don't have to be tactful, you see. So I get to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head."

Jon stopped, pivoted to face the man again.

I snorted mentally. Even I could tell that Tyrion Lannister wasn't exactly wearing rags. His clothes were tailored to fit him and no doubt expensive.

I was pretty sure I was being silent, but Ghost had turned his attention toward me, barking once. That was all it took to put the attention on me. ' _Damn you, Ghost…_ '

"It seems there really are as many wolves in Winterfell as the rumors say." Tyrion stated, eying me intently.

"She's Ghost's littermate." Jon said. He crouched slightly and held out a hand. I sighed to myself, figuring I was already caught so why the hell not? I got up and walked normally to Jon. Normally on all four feet, that is.

I heard Tyrion "hmm" as I came into the light of the yard. "This one's got an interesting pelt." he cautiously touched the stripe on my back. I turned to look at him, and he noticed my eyes. "I've never seen eyes like that on a wolf. Interesting. Which of your siblings does she belong to?"

"None," Jon shrugged. "She's Theon Greyjoy's." That was the second time tonight he'd told someone I was Greyjoy's. Technically, it was true, but it really just made me wish I'd gotten paired with a Stark. _Any_ Stark.

His brows rose into his hairline. "I wouldn't have thought Ned Stark would see fit to let a kraken have the sigil of House Stark, the same as his own children." Kraken?

"Father is a generous man." Jon said defensively. "He may not look it, but he is."

"Ah yes, the tales of Ned Stark's honor and nobility are many." Tyrion agreed, absently rubbing my ear. Against my will, I leaned into it. One day, I vowed, I'd overcome this stupid weakness. "Except of course, the one time he betrayed that honor." His eyes drifted to inspect Jon. "So I was correct that you _are_ the bastard?" I tore my head away and snapped at his fingers, making the Lannister withdraw his hand in shock.

"It seems now I've offended one of your wolves."

Jon sighed, "Lord Eddard Stark is my father." he said warily.

Tyrion cocked his head to the side, studying Jon from head to toe. He nodded. "Yes. I can see it clearly. You have more of the North in you than your brothers."

Jon blinked in surprise, but his chest expanded a little. I bet he'd been waiting half his life to hear someone say they could tell he had Stark blood. It was pretty obvious that whenever Catelyn, or Theon, or anyone else reminded him about the whole bastard thing, it hit a nerve.

"I have some advice for you, bastard of Eddard Stark." The wolf started to growl but I pushed it down. "Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, as surely as these wolves wear their furs, and it can never be used to hurt you." Tyrion grinned, almost handsomely, and started to strut away on his short legs.

"What the hell do you know about being a bastard?" Jon called after him in annoyance. "You are a trueborn son of Lannister."

Tyrion turned, smirking slightly. "Am I?" he asked coyly. "Do inform my lord father. My mother died birthing me, and he's never been quite sure."

"I don't even know who my mother was," Jon said ruefully. My heart broke for him, not for the first time since I'd met him. Not even for the first time that night.

"Some woman, I bet," Tyrion Lannister joked. "Most of them are." Okay, I was here to offer moral support for Jon, and I don't know how I felt about this Lannister character after he threw the bastard thing in Jon's face repeatedly with his curiosity, but I had to admit that was pretty funny.

Jon made a face as Tyrion left, staring after him for a minute. Then he slowly looked back at the target that had seen better days. He picked up the sword he'd discarded on the ground at some point, looking between me and Ghost. Then, with a vicious swing, he was back to butchering the sack dummy all over again.

* * *

I crept into the darkness of the library after leaving Jon in Ghost's capable ha—paws. When he was ready to stop he'd stop.

In the meantime, I had work to do. I'd pushed and shoved with great effort until the library door creaked open just enough for me to slip inside. I could have giggled, if wolves were capable of even making that noise. It was just me. Just me and rows and rows of dusty old books. This was better treasure than any gold could be.

I ran down a row and then back up, full of excitement. I was an avid reader my whole life, and not having any information about my situation or access to books had been getting to me. Now here they were! I couldn't stop my tail from wagging as I sat down in front of a shelf and studied a spine.

The last time I managed to break in here I just selected a book at random and had prayed it'd have something useful in it. In a language I'd understand, preferably. If it wasn't in Yiddish or English, I'd be out of luck. I could also read Spanish on a third-grade level, but that was neither here nor there right now.

Luckily, going by the spines, I think the majority of the Starks library was English…or a form of it similar enough to mine that I'd understand. I glanced at titles, deciding where to start. There were a couple that piqued my interest immediately: The Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, The Charted Lands of Westeros: A Book of Maps, The History of the Targaryen Conquest and lastly, Bran the Builder and the Wall.

All of these seemed pretty handy, since I was looking for information on the history and geography of this place. I put my paw up to the spines. ' _Eeny-meenie-miny-moe…_ ' I decided on the book about Great Houses, and yanked it down with my teeth. I had to scramble out of the way as gravity almost caused the heavy book to crush me flat.

It fell off the low shelf and onto the floor with a thud, and I looked around nervously. When no one shouted at me, I sighed in relief, nosing the book open carefully. My snout in the yellowed old pages meant I got a good whiff of that old book musk.

Some people found it off-putting, but I took a little bit of comfort in the fact that old books smelled like old books, no matter where you found them. It was just like pouring over musty books in the library at home for my research paper. The book started off with two-page spread of a large map. " _ **Westeros**_ " was centered at the top of the map, and below, there were lots of small icons with different names. My eyes scanned the map and found " _ **Stark**_ " and " _ **Lannister**_ " so I was able to put two and two together.

It was a list of families and the lands they ruled. I stored that in mind as I read some of the unfamiliar names before using my damp little nose to turn the page (with some difficulty) in the absence of having actual fingers I could wet.

The first chapter was titled " **House Baratheon** " and there was a picture of the same crowned stag I'd seen on the king's banners in the Great Hall. It unceremoniously jumped right into talking about the Baratheons, and I eagerly read it.

House Baratheon was young for a Great House according to the book, only around since the Wars of Conquest. Orys Baratheon was the founder of their house, and it detailed how he'd defeated someone named Argilac the Arrogant, the Storm King, and been rewarded a bunch of shit from some dude named Aegon the Dragon. It was all pretty interesting, like reading ancient legends of King Arthur and his knights.

Except, I was living a legend right now, so I was sort of more inclined to believe all this stuff than I might've been in the past. It ended with the Baratheon House words: _Ours is the Fury_. Who the hell knows what that was supposed to mean…don't make them angry, maybe? The pages on them also included a list of vassal Houses. There were a shit ton of those, too.

I moved on to reading about the next House. I couldn't help but grin at the all too familiar picture of a wolf at the top of the page under the words " **House Stark** ". It would be nice to know more about my host family. It didn't take a genius to figure out they were important—people called Ned "Lord" and the family lived in a castle with servants for cripe's sake—but I didn't know anything about the history.

The Starks…holy shit, my eyes almost popped out of my skull when I read down the first page. Their ancestor, the first known Stark, was called Brandon the Builder. I liked the part about the Kings of Winter, who supposedly had magical abilities, like being able to share the minds of animals and seeing events of the past, present and future. That was cool and all, but when I saw "ruled from Winterfell as Kings in the North for thousands of years" it dawned on me just how far back the Starks traced their lineage, and how _old_ the family was.

I thought about sullen-faced Ned. _'Damn, son…'_ I kept reading. They gave up the right to be kings of _anything_ when some Stark named Torrhen decided to swear fealty to Aegon the Dragon and avoid fighting against him in war. Apparently, it was the same Aegon the Dragon that got mentioned in House Baratheon's chapter.

Their House words were _Winter is Coming_. I have to say, that made even less sense to me than the whole _Ours is the Fury_. I mean, one time in Winterfell and anybody would have asked when did winter _leave_? It was cold all the time—not that I really felt it, but I knew it was—so cold, even little kids stayed bundled in fur cloaks that dragged the ground.

And I'd seen more snow since the Starks took us in than I'd seen my entire twenty years. Yet no one else ever batted an eye around here. They went about their daily activities like no one noticed Antarctica had thrown up everywhere. Even the ambiance of the land and the muted colors of white and grey and black were wintery. I scrolled the names of the vassal Houses. Karstark, Umber, Flint, Manderly, Reed, Mormont, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Glover, Tallhart, and Bolton.

Bolton…? For some reason that name in particular stood out. And not because of Zac Efron's role as the lovable singing jock in _High School Musical_. It seems like I had a fuzzy memory of Jean, tears streaming down her face, screaming at the TV and cursing "Boltons" to hell for being "fucking punk-ass traitors".

The outburst over something shocking on the show was nothing new. I mentioned it already, but _Game of Thrones_ really brought out the emotional and somewhat unhinged side of her, every single Sunday. I had at one point told her she needed to get it together, because it wasn't good for her health. Anyone could guess how that had gone over…

Need a hint? Not well. I had the knot from the remote chucked at my head for two weeks to prove it. She'd been particularly upset that time, almost inconsolable. She stayed shut in her room the next day "in mourning" because the Boltons…did something. And someone got married, I think.

Yeah, I've already admitted I didn't pay close enough attention to rants, alright? Whatever they did, it was on the tip of my tongue, at the edge of my brain. It was gonna bug me all night now. Fuck.

I decided to stow the thought and move on. House Lannister was next. Another familiar name, with an already familiar image of a lion reared on its back paws.

I couldn't help but snort when I read the description. It literally mentioned the Lannisters' physical beauty. That was pretty funny when a book detailing the history of your family's House actually had to stop and give you props for being hot. Well, it actually said Lannisters tended to be "fair-haired, tall and handsome". I thought of the queen's brother Jaime Lannister and mentally checked that box.

Then I thought of Tyrion, and that there were exceptions to every rule. Personally I think everyone over-exaggerated Tyrion being hideous. Tall he was not, but he at least had the golden hair of a Lannister, and because he reminded me of Peter Dinklage, I didn't think he was that bad. So sue me for not being fixated on looks.

I read on and discovered that like the Starks, the Lannisters were also a pretty old family. They were descended from Lann the Clever, a trickster from the Age of Heroes. That sounded pretty epic, I have to say. They were also the richest family in the kingdom, making me do a double-take. No wonder they came off as snobs…

I looked at the list of vassal Houses at the end of the chapter and just like in the Stark chapter, one stood out. Clegane. Jean had said something about it more than once, I was positive. One episode, she was halfway drunk and in one of her rants. Something about "You dumb bitch, he's offering you an out! Go with him and escaaaape! Get married! Oh, you dumb bitch!"

She cried angrily the rest of the episode and finally passed out drunk right there on the couch in the front room, wine that had sloshed from her glass stained on her shirt. It was sort of annoying the bits and pieces of Jean's commentary from the episodes that I was starting to remember weren't particularly helpful.

After I finished that chapter, I paused, glancing up at the moon high in the sky from the library's window. Stretching my body, I decided to finish reading the rest of the book later. People should finally be off to bed, and I couldn't let this night go to waste! I had things to do, if I was going to save Sansa like I promised myself I would. True, I wasn't as close to her as some of her siblings. But Joffrey shouldn't be anybody's future.

I pushed the book under one of the heavy study tables, because really, I had no hope of getting the damn thing back up on a shelf. I quietly snuck out of the library the same way I snuck in with a mental promise to return as soon as I could. I'd learned a lot already. I didn't feel as helpless, as long as I was armed with _some_ knowledge.

More confident now, I stepped back into the hall, sniffing my way through the dimly lit cold stone passages, trying to find my way back outside. It took a few too many tries, to my frustration, but I got outside again, and the first thing I did was sniff for Ghost. I was so happy that Jon was just headed back inside, because I had no idea how long I'd been in the library. I was a decently fast reader, but if Jon had already gone to bed for the night and Ghost had followed him, it would have been a hitch in my plan.

I barked into the night air, and they both turned. I danced around from side to side, still barking, telling Ghost to get his furry white ass over here, and make it snappy. Jon looked between the two of us. "What is it?" he asked.

I couldn't explain to him if I wanted to, so I focused on getting Ghost to leave his master and join me. Finally, cautiously, Ghost took a calm step forward, and then another. I howled briefly in success when he made it to my side. "Ghost…" Jon frowned slightly.

Now I felt bad I was taking Jon's friend from him for the night. But Ghost was smart, and quiet and he had red eyes. I needed him. Jon seemed to understand he wasn't getting his wolf back, at least, because he sighed.

"Don't cause trouble. Lady Stark will have you kenneled." He warned softly, going back inside alone. I turned to Ghost, lifting my head high and sniffing deeply. A lot of smells came to me on the night breeze, but I was only looking for a particular one.

I ignored all the weird things I was smelling. I turned to Ghost, who was eyeing me intently with those unnerving red eyes, and literally barked an order. _Smell the air for dogs and wolf!_

This was the beauty of it. Of the bond I shared with my wolf brothers and sisters. They understood. Ghost tilted his own head back and sniffed deeply. I grinned. My nose was getting better every day, but two noses could only be better than one. I waited, antsy, as Ghost kept sniffing. Then he lowered his head and walked right by me. I followed quickly. He had the scent. I know he did.

Together our paws moved across the hard ground to the kennels. Where poor Shaggy Dog was a prisoner. Shaggy Dog was by far the hardest to manage. We were all still pups and yet he was already sort of a wild child. He and Rickon really resonated. But Catelyn was concerned about my black-furred brother's behavior during the royal family's visit, and had him sleeping in the kennels at night. Rickon wasn't happy. In an ode to Shaggy Dog, _he_ howled down the castle instead, to show his displeasure.

We entered the little building where the many dogs belonging to the servants and guards of Winterfell stayed. As many dogs as there were at the feast, there was also a good bit still huddled behind gates in here. They saw our shadows and stirred. I ignored them, moving down the line with Ghost right beside me until I found a completely black wolf with startlingly green eyes lying down and staring off in boredom.

Shaggy was penned off by himself. Not just penned, but chained up. I anticipated this. My wild brother wasn't going to stay put any other way. But I'd prepared for that too. On a peg not far from the pens, was a key to his chains. Animals weren't supposed to be intelligent enough to free themselves. Not normally.

So what would be the point of putting the key somewhere else? It took some hopping around awkwardly, but finally with a running leap I landed on a barrel of…I don't even wanna guess, and snatched the key from the hook before I fell back down onto the dirt and straw. The key clattered noisily on the ground and the dogs started whimpering, whining and pawing at the gates. Too bad for them. This jail break was for Shaggy Dog, party of one.

I picked up the key again and dragged the heavy, horrible-tasting metal object to Shaggy Dog's pen, clenching it firmly in my jaw and squeezing my way between the slats in the wooden gating. Shaggy rose to his feet. He was anxious, and when he saw me he started pacing, growling softly.

I tried to convey that I was there to help and to just stay calm. The key was so heavy it threatened to make me fall over as it was, and I shakily got it in the lock attached to the chain around his neck. I tilted my head, fumbling until I heard the lock click open and it dropped to the ground with a thunk.

Shaggy finally seemed to understand, because he licked my face happily before he started doing little laps around his pen. No time to play, we've got work to do. I grabbed his scruff when he came by me and yanked, effectively halting him. He yelped, snapping at my face in defiance. But my time as a wolf hadn't been for nothing.

I took his ear and pulled hard, and he instantly submitted. I smirked proudly. I'd been working on that little trick. I squeezed back through the slat and he followed me. Before we all left, I made sure to jump up and put the key back on the hook. This way, it would look like someone just forgot to lock Shaggy's chains and he'd slipped out.

We raced across the castle grounds, me in the lead. The wolf wanted to howl, I could feel it. Running with her pack made her feel fierce and free. I pushed her down again though. Before we stepped back into the castle, near an entrance that would put us close to the smaller dining hall, I peered around the corner. Not a soul. I smelled the air just in case… No one.

I was pretty sure the feast had ended, and it was time for the wolves to come out and play a little.

* * *

This prank was pretty simple, really. The three of us crept down Winterfell's halls with me tracking the prince's odd, unpleasant scent. I'm sure right now he was tucked away like almost everyone else in Winterfell, getting ready to sleep off an exciting night of partying. The boy prince wouldn't be sleeping, though. Not after I was done with him.

We found the hall with the room he was staying in. There was one guard standing outside. But he was slumped against the wall and half asleep. I had a little rubber ball that belonged to Rickon in my mouth I'd picked up from the nursery where the youngest Stark children played. I remember Catelyn telling the young prince and princess they were welcome to use it too.

I tossed the ball as hard as I could without hands and watched as it hit the wall near the guard's head, bounced, and then rolled off into the dark. He snapped awake, looking around in alarm. Not seeing anyone, he cautiously peered around the corner. "Who goes there?" he asked, trying to hide the sleep in his voice.

Now is when I mention that I like that these old halls echo. I scratched the wall near me with my paws, hidden away in the shadows, and the guard's head turned in our direction. Shaggy was hiding in a spot further down the hall, and he started scratching the walls too. It echoed in the eerie quiet and the guard stumbled forward, following the noise.

If he tried to turn back around before we were done, Shaggy would make some more noise and lead him away. And the brilliance is if my dark-furred brother was discovered, well, he was _just_ a wolf. Insert innocent wink. In the dark the guard might even mistake him for a dog. And dogs were too dumb to orchestrate sinister pranks.

When he was far enough away that he had all but disappeared in the dark, I rushed to Joffrey's door with Ghost in toe. I pushed my head against the heavy wood, and Ghost joined me. The heavy oak creaked open, and we slipped inside. I knew Shaggy would join us soon. Crouched low on our bellies, we slunk forward. The prince was in bed, snoring. ' _Somebody might have had a little too much to drink_ ', I snickered.

That was why I had to do this tonight. I don't know if Joffrey was a heavy sleeper normally so this could be my only chance. But I figured a young teenage boy drinking alcohol would probably be knocked out pretty soundly.

There were candles lit on either side of the bed, and a fire going in the hearth, but the light from all three sources was weak. Perfect. I slowly put my paws on the mattress and peered at the prince's sleeping face in the candlelight. ' _Aw, how angelic._ ' I thought sarcastically.

He continued to breathe deeply. I started lifting my weight carefully, the furs he slept on muffling sound. I was so happy for the cold in this moment. Ghost waited patiently on the floor. I pulled my body onto the bed little by little, willing Joffrey to stay asleep. At this point I'd say that was a safe bet, going by his drool-stained pillow. Yuck…

I crept across the bed, keeping my eyes training on his face. Still out cold. I settled for getting as close to Joffrey's legs and groin as I dared to, staring heavily at him. Did I really want to do this? I gave my conscience a minute to kick in, to talk me out of it and tell me Joffrey might be a good kid, if not a little misunderstood. That didn't happen. My conscience was on extended vacation. I squatted down on the bed, pretending I was off in some bush somewhere, and let loose.

This was almost embarrassing. I never even did this as a little kid! Not on purpose or on accident. Joffrey's face scrunched at the warmth and for a horrifying second I thought for sure he'd wake up. He started muttering, but as soon as I was done I hopped off the mattress.

We slipped under his bed without a peep. In the dark under the bed, I could only see Ghost's outline. Even with my enhanced vision. His red eyes were brighter than anything. The color of fresh spilt blood. Joffrey wouldn't be able to see Ghost at all. I wanted to cackle at the brilliance. I moaned softly, trying to do my best imitation of a ghost. I heard Joffrey groan tiredly, waking up. "What the bloody hell is that?" he grumbled. I heard shuffling, and figured he was moving to sit up. "Ser Meryn?" he asked.

I wonder if that's the guard I got to leave the post outside the prince's door. I kept moaning softly. Joffrey stood up from the bed, and then I heard him scream pretty loudly. And like a young girl. Looks like he discovered he'd had an "accident".

Footsteps rushed by. "Your Grace!" someone shouted, the man I'd sent away, probably. "What's happened?" Steel was drawn. A sword.

I felt warm breath huffing against my ear. I turned, green eyes staring back at me. Somehow, Shaggy Dog had slipped in on the heels of that stupid guard. His dark fur was pretty useful, just like I knew it would be.

"Where were you?" Joffrey asked. Demanded, really.

"I…I apologize, Your Grace. I heard a sound and thought someone was trying to play a jape on you in the night, so I—"

"Never mind that!" Joffrey huffed irritably. "Just go back outside, and close my damn door when you do!"

"…"

"What? Why are you just standing there like a bleeding idiot? If I'd wanted a jester I'd have called for Moon Boy!"

"Forgive me, my prince… it's just…the smell…" There was a significant pause. He'd noticed the stain on the front of Joffrey's PJ's. "M-My prince…have you…have you—"

Joffrey squealed in rage. "Out!" he exploded. There was a clang as the man rushed to the door to get out, and as he did, the three of us darted out on his heels while the prince began attacking his pillow in fury, cursing the wine.

What was it the song said? Blame it on the alcohol?

* * *

The rumor mill of Winterfell was churning heavily the next day. All about the royal family, of course. A lot of it was about Joffrey though. And almost none of that was pleasant. He had looks, and a fancy bloodline, and he would be king one day, but all that was overshadowed by two things.

His odd behavior at the feast, and the fact that he was a supposed bed-wetter. Meals were still a rowdy affair with almost three times the people as usual eating in the Great Hall, and this time I sat under Theon's chair, who sat with Robb and the other Starks. The teenagers were far enough down from Joffrey and his younger brother and sister, and the table was so animated, they were free to talk about whatever they wanted. And they were discussing the rumors, naturally. Like the teenage girls they were.

"You jest!" Robb was saying.

"I speak true, Stark!" Theon cackled. "There is more golden about the prince than his hair, it seems. The wine got the better of him, I hear."

Robb laughed heartily. "As much as I want to believe this, how did you come by this news?" I could almost imagine the self-important grin on Theon's face right now. "A chat with one of the maidens that cleaned the prince's chambers. I saw the soiled sheets myself, couple of them were taking them out. He swore her to silence, I'm sure, but you know how maids are. When there is a fresh piece of news, about a prince no less, they will tell any listening ear."

"Aye." I peered up, Robb was taking a long drink from his goblet. "We are no different, it seems."

"I don't know about you Stark, but I've got one very large difference from a maid between my legs," Theon boasted. I gagged on air.

"Not even Rickon has done it since he was but a babe." Robb scoffed. "Wait until Jon hears!"

"You believe there's a chance he hasn't already?" Theon asked. "Everyone has. The king and queen even know. I hear the king was so embarrassed he forbid the prince from having anymore wine while they're here."

"True enough, he'll likely know when we see him later." Robb agreed, stabbing into a piece of sausage. That reminded me, Arya owed me a piece… "The prince doesn't do a very good job of hiding his immaturity. First, he claimed a mouse ran across his foot, and spit wine in Sansa's face. Now, he soils himself like a child. At this rate, Father won't agree to give Sansa's hand to a man that foolish, prince or not." I grinned evilly. Ding! Ding! Ding!

"She was upset, wasn't she? Her sweet prince spitting on her…did you see the look on her face?" Theon laughed again, remembering.

I sighed happily. The day was only just starting and Joffrey's reputation around Winterfell was in the mud.

* * *

 **Yes, she peed on him. XD Honestly, I'd have liked for her to prank him more during broad daylight hours, but come on, this is the precious little gold shit we're talking about. Knowing Joffrey he'd probably try to have the Stark wolves executed if one peed on his leg. Plus, this way, everyone thinks Joffrey's a bed-wetter. :D**

 **Next chapter has more pranks and events pulled from book canon, along with some divergence.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Still trying to decide which major event I will leave in place. Will Ned still go South, or will Jon still go to the Wall? Or will things progress on a different path entirely? Let me know your thoughts and please review!**

 **To the last Guest reviewer: I think some of your predictions already came true in this chapter. Or will come true throughout the course of the story. Others, I am now considering thanks to you! I will give a more in depth response at the end of this chapter.**

* * *

I sort of thought things couldn't get any better with my plan. So far Joffrey looked like a fool.

I was happily wrong. The day continued and the snickers over the prince's incident didn't stop. When Robb and Theon saw Jon after breakfast, they were quick to talk about the spit-take at dinner the night before. Ghost and Grey Wind were following the animated gestures they made curiously. Jon's eyes got wide and then he shook his head with a rare, hardy laugh. I didn't blame him.

"I wish I could have seen that," he said when he finally stopped.

"It was a sight!" Theon grinned. "Sansa was so confused and embarrassed. I notice she wasn't sitting across from the prince when we broke fast this morning." I felt a little bad because I knew Sansa made that dress by hand. But…eh. A spot on her dress could come out. As long as it wasn't a spot in her heart for that shady prince. It was sounding like that wasn't happening though.

"She'd been completely fascinated with whatever empty words he'd said up until that point," Robb continued. "I don't want to see Sansa hurt, but maybe seeing the prince for who he is would spare her later."

Theon smirked lazily. "I think she's already coming around. Her own shallowness may save her. She likes beautiful people who say beautiful words, like in the songs. If the prince cannot be that, then the infatuation will die."

"He's right," Jon murmured quietly. "Although, Sansa is not shallow, she's just a girl. Naïve." Jon was a good guy, sticking up for Sansa when all she did was ignore him. Theon might've been a little right though… Sansa _was_ sort of shallow right now, but I think that was mostly due to her age and having a sheltered life.

Theon looked at Jon and shrugged nonchalantly. "If you say. But so you know, it's the shallowness that causes her to hate bastards, and not naivety." I rammed Theon in the leg and he cried out in surprise, almost losing his balance. He looked down at me accusingly. "What's gotten into you _now_?"

' _Low blow, idiot. Low blow.'_

Robb patted Jon's shoulder in silent support, giving Theon a glare. "We're to train with the princes later, Bran and I. Come watch me put Joffrey on his back?" he asked hopefully.

Jon offered up a small smile. If I couldn't smell it, I might not have been able to tell he was sad.

"I wouldn't miss that for the world." he said. Neither would I.

I could take a break from scheming ways to humiliate Joffrey and watch someone else do it for me. I'd seen Robb and Jon and Theon fighting together for practice. I think any one of them could have beat Joffrey pretty easily.

Knowing I had something to look forward to, I decided maybe I'd check out the library again, read more of the book I'd started.

Then there was a wrench in my plans. A wrench named Theon Greyjoy. He whistled as he started walking off, "Opal," Whaaat? Of all times, he picked _now_ to want me to follow him. We'd had sort of an unspoken agreement. We each did our own things. Occasionally, I'd follow, but as I'd gotten older and bigger I'd gotten more confident in not needing to be glued to his side—which was a reluctant arrangement at best to begin with. I gave him serious evil eye, because come on, I wanted to finish that book!

But he called for me again and even though I didn't really want to follow, my feet took me closer. Ugh. Despite my best efforts, I had started to feel like the wolf had some very weak sense of loyalty to Theon. Me? I could take him or leave him, but the wolf, unfortunately, had a much wider sense of who it included into its "clique". The Starks were naturals, and I understood why the wolf was loyal. I liked them too. But Theon? My inner animal must have been dropped on its head.

Really, finishing up my reading about the Great Houses of Westeros should take precedence, but instead I followed Theon outside and watched him get out his bow and arrows. I have no idea why I needed to be here for this. To my knowledge, he practiced his archery almost every day, and he'd never made me come with him before. Technically, he wasn't making me come now. I could trot off, and head right to the library. But in broad daylight, it might be harder to get my reading done. Maybe it'd be better if I snuck back later tonight…

An arrow landed dangerously close to my paw with a thunk. I whirled around and barked angrily. Theon was grinning, "Fetch!" he said. I lowered my head and stared at him like he just grew beaver teeth. "Bring the arrows here," he ordered. What the hell was he trying to do?

Glancing at the one that almost _hit_ me, I walked over and carefully took the shaft between my teeth, yanking upward. It easily came out of the earth, and Theon yelled something that sounded like he was pleased. "Now the other." Wobbling for balance a little, I walked to the second arrow, clasping that in my mouth too.

I gave him a very impatient look, because frankly this was stupid. If he was trying to invent a new type of fetch, I wasn't sold on it. Making sure I had a good grip on these stupid things, I started running for him, tail wagging. The closer I got, the more his pleased grin dropped into a concerned frown. "Opal, stop! Opal! No!"

He took off running with me right behind him, cackling wickedly in my head. _'What arrows? These arrows?'_ I kept chasing him around with the sharp arrows until he hopped over the gate to the tiltyard. At that point I had to stop too. Not because I was out of breath, but because I had earned the hysterical laugh bubbling up inside.

I dropped the arrows at his feet innocently, and then collapsed flat on my back and started laughing. I'm sure it didn't sound like laughter to Theon. Probably sounded like I was wheezing or something, but I was definitely having a good time right now.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were japing," Theon had reentered the yard after deciding it was safe again, and was looking down on me critically.

I rolled over onto my stomach and then got to my feet. _Listen dude, I don't know what japing is, but I definitely like messing with you._

Theon sighed and then took another arrow to knock back. "Again," he said, firing. I figured he wasn't going to fall for the same thing twice, so I grabbed the arrow and brought it to him normally.

This time, I got rewarded with a rub of the ear. ' _Alright…_ ' I thought, ' _this is more like it.'_ He fired more arrows, which I was expected to bring back. I brought them all back and kept getting ear rubs. Except the last one, I picked it up and, deciding to try something, I tried to fling it at a nearby target. It landed pitifully near the ground, nowhere near the bull's eye.

Well shit. Theon always made that look so easy. I heard him laughing as he came up behind me. "Still a better archer than Bran," he chuckled. Then he fired an arrow that hit the bull's eye effortlessly.

I glared. Show off. He retrieved the last arrow himself and replaced all of them in the quiver on his back. I was surprised when he came over to me and rubbed my head, not my ears this time. "You'll be better than any hunting hound in no time." Ah, so that's what this was about. "You're already smarter." I looked up at the unexpected compliment, and he was looking at me with clear pride. My little puppy chest puffed out. …Damn, straight! At least he recognized _that_ much.

"Come on then," he patted his leg, whistling as he started to walk off. "Tarts for me and meat pies for you." I blinked. We hadn't been out here _that_ long, maybe an hour and a half.

I wondered if Theon truly wanted a snack, or if he just did the things he did for the hell of it. It was time to pull off a kitchen heist either way.

Later, I decided that with the unusual turn of events where Theon and I actually were _getting along_ for a change, the stolen meat pies I scarfed down tasted even better than usual.

* * *

Robb was up first, so naturally I was excited to see this, because I knew Robb was good with a sword. I didn't recognize his opponent. He was wearing Lannister colors and looked a little full of himself. He grinned smugly as he stood opposite Robb, and I sat down in the dirt and smirked. This outta be good.

When Ser Rodrik gave the go ahead, they both got out their swords, wooden in the spirit of it being practice, and went at each other. Theon was whooping and so were all the other men and boys on the sidelines. Rickon was jumping up and down, screaming Robb's name in a mantra. Bran cheered for his brother too, and between the two of them, I think they just about drowned the half-assed jeers in support of the other guy out.

I mean don't get me wrong, everyone was being loud. But the cheers for Robb sounded the loudest to me. Could be because of the side I was standing on though. At first, the two men sparring seemed like equal matches, heavy thwacks as the wooden swords met each other filling the air and sure feet moving nimbly. It went on for a while, and I watched, envious of Robb's techniques. I couldn't even toss a damn arrow in this body, let alone wield a sword like some kind of badass.

All it took was one misstep, and Robb's wooden sword knocked the Lannister chump's out of his hands. Robb's sword tip poked at the skin of the other guy's throat. His opponent gulped, holding his hands up. "I yield,"

That was all it took for Robb to lower his sword with a happy grin. He wiped his sweating forehead and held out a hand, which his opponent grudgingly shook, returning to his side only to be greeted by the jeers of the people who had been rooting for him.

"Lord Robb Stark wins!" Rodrik called.

Robb returned to his younger brothers and Theon surrounding him to pat his back and, in Theon's case, his head.

"Alright," Ser Rodrik started explaining as I watched people hurriedly pad up Tommen and Bran until they both looked like the Michelin Tire Man; they were then handed practice swords. "This is to be nothing more than practice in the name of sportsmanship. We're honored enough to have the princes with us here today, so let's have some clean fun."

I was standing off to the side with Theon, watching the practices. The two younger boys were up next. Rickon and Shaggy Dog were there to watch too, Rickon sulking. After the castle woke up to find Shaggy Dog loose outside Rickon's bedroom door, and Ned had calmed Catelyn down from her fit, he'd convinced her to let boy and wolf reunite, at least during the day.

"He won't have the energy to escape if he runs wild during the day." Ned had reasoned. Catelyn wasn't happy, but Robb, good big brother that he was, pledged to take on Shaggy Dog as his responsibility if it meant he wouldn't get separated from Rickon again.

I was glad he did. Not only because it made little Rickon happy, but because Shaggy Dog was currently scaring the hell out of the Lannister squires. Every now and then he'd look at one and lick his maw, and even though he wasn't big enough to take down a person _yet_ , it was still intimidating enough that everyone gave him a wide berth. I found it hilarious.

"I'd like to practice with the princes!" the youngest Stark declared.

Robb laughed and messed up his already unruly mop of hair. "You've never even held a sword!" he reminded his little brother.

Rickon pouted, his rosy cheeks poking out adorably. "So? Look at the way the prince is standing…he hasn't either." I laughed to myself. Rickon was probably right. The younger prince was awkwardly holding his wooden sword with a clumsy stance, while Bran's grip and stance was more confident. They waddled toward each other, struggling with all the padding, and Bran swung at the golden-haired boy halfheartedly.

"Go on, Bran!" Robb was yelling loudly, "You've got this!"

"You're no marksman," Theon laughed. "So you had better be able to fend them off with a sword." I guess that was supposed to be encouraging?

"Don't give him any ground, Prince Tommen!" someone else shouted. Obviously that person came with the Lannisters. Joffrey, the golden shit, was standing among his entourage with the huge, scary scarred man that was apparently his body guard, arms folded, looking unamused. He didn't even bother cheering his brother on, like this whole thing was beneath him. Yeah right, I highly doubted he could do any better.

I looked around for Jon. Was he seeing this? How smug Joffrey was right now? For some odd reason, he wasn't there next to Robb. I knew he said he wanted to see them fight, and I was pretty sure he meant it. Who wouldn't want to see Joffrey get his ass handed to him? I'm pretty sure anyone who had ever had the displeasure of meeting him would. I finally glanced up, at the bridge between the armory and what people called the Great Keep.

The bridge was covered, but you could see easily through the glass, and hear pretty well too if you listened hard. I saw Arya and Jon peering down at the fight. Nymeria and Ghost were with them.

I grinned. I wasn't sure what they were doing up here and not down there, but I guess at least they all had a good enough view. I turned my attention back to the dueling boys when I heard the prince squeaked as Bran wacked at him. He was flailing back, and their swords occasionally connected, but even if they hadn't and someone got hit, there was no way either one would sustain any real damage.

Bran kept swinging, and despite the advice Tommen's side was shouting, I could see the younger prince starting to lose ground. He tried to fend Bran off valiantly, but even Bran's beginner sword skills were overwhelming to Tommen, who kept making obvious mistakes even I could spot. He wasn't keeping his guard up very well.

The next thing I know, Bran delivered a disarming blow that landed the prince on his back, and he yelped as he rolled around in the dirt, struggling to get up with the padding inhibiting his movements. Bran stood over him, huffing, but holding his sword at the ready. He looked like a kid in the arcade playing wack-a-mole. The minute Tommen was back up, Bran would be ready to smack him down. Everyone, even Tommen's entourage, were laughing, and I felt bad for the boy helplessly rolling around.

"Enough!" Rodrik yelled, apparently taking pity on the struggling prince. He went over and easily got Tommen back on his feet. "Well fought, my prince." he gave Tommen a feint nod. "Lew, Donnis, help the boys out of their padding," Rodrik's helpers rushed forward to do so.

Welp…I thought with a yawn that went about as well as I'd expected. It sort of just proved what I think everyone on Winterfell's side already knew. The prince hadn't had any formal sword training. He may have been a couple years younger, but if he'd had any training whatsoever, he should have been able to at least keep up with Bran. I mean Bran had more practice than Rickon but he wasn't exactly any serious swordsman. Either of his older brothers or even Theon could likely swat him aside single-handed any day of the week.

"Good job, Bran," Robb said as he came back to our side, hair falling into his eyes. He smiled shyly at his brother's praise.

"You won, Bran," Rickon told him, "But you looked silly."

"Oh hush, you," Bran lightly shoved at his baby brother. Robb and Theon laughed.

Rodrik glanced over. "Robb, would you be willing to go another round with Prince Joffrey?"

That did it. Robb's eyes lit up, electric blue and excited. "Gladly," he nodded.

Rodrik turned, Robb already recollecting his practice sword. "And you, my prince?" All eyes were on Joffrey, who was trying to look as disaffected by the whole thing as possible. If I were him, I'd be trying to save face too. Ever since he got here, he'd looked down on Winterfell and everyone in it, as if he were automatically superior because of his royal blood. Maybe in this world, that was true (because everyone definitely seemed preoccupied with your birth status defining you), but I'm pretty sure I'd just watched the Starks win two matches in a row pretty handily.

Joffrey moved out of the shadow of his great big guard, looking casually bored. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

Theon laughed derisively. "You are a child."

"Maybe _Robb_ is, but I'm a prince." Joffrey snorted, sticking his nose in the air. "Swatting at Starks with a play sword is beneath me." Why that little—

"Then you shouldn't be too concerned to fight a child," Robb challenged. A hush fell over everyone suddenly. It was pretty plain Joffrey had just been called out. He'd need one hell of an excuse to get out of this without looking like a coward. "Are you afraid?" Robb asked after a beat.

Joffrey bared his teeth in a snarl, and I'm pretty sure there was no hiding just what he was to everyone in the courtyard. Everyone had to see he was nothing but an obnoxious, cowardly, narcissistic bully, right? "Terrified," he said through clenched teeth, motioning with a gloved hand. Somebody rushed forward and brought him a sword. A steel one. What the fuck?!

Robb looked on, his jaw clenched tight. He didn't look afraid, just…determined. "Live steel. Fine then."

"Ser Rodrik, may I?" The old man with the white mutton chops didn't look at all happy.

Suddenly, the giant of a man who had been at the prince's side all day spoke up. "Why this hesitation? I killed a man at twelve." If he was even half as big and burly at twelve as he was right now, then I didn't doubt it.

"Live steel is dangerous, Clegane." Ser Rodrik grunted. Pretty annoyed at having the prince and his people come in and take over his training sessions, if I had to guess.

Bran and Rickon shared glances. Their eyes were wide at the tension in the air, and Rickon leaned in to whisper. "Robb will still win though." he added slowly, "Right?"

Bran took a minute, but nodded. "Ser Rodrik has been training him for some time. He says the only one of us better with a sword is Jon. Robb can…" he swiped at his lips with a nervous tongue. "Can win,"

Theon's eyes were on the tense standoff between Robb and Joffrey. "Joffrey hasn't had proper sword practice a day in his spoiled life. I'd put silver stags on it." Thoughtfully, he added, "Then again, even a green boy can get lucky if he's swinging live steel." I headbutted his leg. Couldn't he see he wasn't doing poor Bran and Rickon any favors?!

Ser Rodrik could clearly see he was outnumbered on this. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, and almost everyone wanted to see a fight with steel. I wasn't as worried Joffrey would get lucky and actually hurt Robb as I was worried Robb would 'accidentally-on-purpose' hurt Joffrey, and then the prince would go run and tell. Ugh, I hated that little shit the more I looked at him.

"There will be rules!" Rodrik barked. "I want them both padded heavily." He motioned with a hand and Lew and Donnis moved back in to start padding them up again. Joffrey didn't look pleased, but he allowed it. I had to wonder if he'd even be doing any of this if I hadn't made him look like a fool last night at the feast and this morning when everyone found out the prince had his sheets changed.

Joffrey was definitely the type to have other people fight his battles. I could just tell. I think it was my wolf's intuitions that easily could spot a weakness. I mean, would he really take Frankenstein's monster everywhere he went if he wasn't trying to intimidate everyone?

A part of me should feel bad, because essentially I pushed him into this. I say _should_ feel bad. Because I'll be damned if I didn't. I made a fool of him twice and Robb was about to do it again, and everyone would see. Say goodbye to the last of your pride, you uppity little bitch. Once the prince and Robb were sufficiently layered up, Rodrik continued, "No blows to the head or aiming for the neck. Nothing below the belt either."

Some people snickered. Hey, if I was out there I'd try to chop Joffrey's balls off under the guise of a heavy-handed swing, too! Prevent anymore evil spawn from entering the world. "When I say stop, you will both stop. It doesn't matter who has the upper hand or if you feel fit to continue. Fight to a stalemate or until someone yields otherwise. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Ser Rodrik." said Robb.

"Let's get on with this then," Joffrey faked a yawn.

I was practically shaking. The wolf in me scented the danger and tension and watched in heavy anticipation like everyone else. The human, sensible part of me felt like I was biting my nails inside, watching the face off everyone had been waiting for about to begin. Everyone knows the one. Like watching Harry and Draco Malfoy finally have their duel in Second Year.

They went at each other and Robb immediately was on the offensive with a hard right swing, which Joffrey blocked. I thought the cheers and jeering were loud before, but my sensitive ears almost couldn't take the sound now. I looked up and Arya was up there screaming her little head off, waving her fist in a pretty unladylike manner. If I had to guess I would say she wanted Robb to demolish him. I didn't blame her. Jon was watching with rapt attention too, his normally pensive face laser focused on the fighting. Both of their wolves were following the movements with their heads going back and forth.

Joffrey's face had started to turn red in exertion, but as usual with people with wounded pride and something to prove, he wasn't smart enough to back down. He got a few lucky shots in. By which I mean he got through Robb's heavy slashes a few times, but Robb's skill shone through. Ser Rodrik should really be more pleased than anything. Robb trained under him and he was beating royal booty right now.

I looked over at the prince's side and was gleeful to see the reactions. People were screaming for Joffrey to win, of course, but only because they had to. How bad would it look if they suddenly started screaming Robb's name like they switched sides? But the big, scarred guy named Clegane had his lips drawn tight as he looked on, silent. And even little Tommen, who was almost lost in the sea of red and gold and armored bodies, looked like even he didn't know who he was supposed to be cheering for. I could see his eyes dancing in awe at Robb's techniques.

The swords kept clanging together, glinting in the sun, Joffrey continuing to try to distance himself from Robb to know effect. How stupid. Every step back he took was a step Robb followed, if he wasn't careful he'd be cornered soon. Stupid prince. If he wasn't a pigheaded little prick I might feel bad. As it was, I found myself barking along with the crowd's cheers when Joffrey turned to avoid a slash and instead his shoulder caught the brunt of the blow. He squealed and released his sword, which fell to the ground.

"Stop!" Rodrik bellowed, but Robb had already started to back off, considering the fight as good as won.

It was an uproar. You'd think these crazies on the sidelines had a personal stake in this. I rolled my eyes. Men.

This time Bran, Rickon and Theon didn't wait until Robb escaped his padding to go and rush him. He had to almost fling his sword aside when his little brothers came in to hug him. Even Shaggy Dog was bounding around in circles, feeding off the energy. I swaggered over a lot calmer, but Robb was my hero too. Anyone who knocked Joffrey down a peg was.

"That's it?" Someone on the prince's side demanded. Ser Rodrik helped Joffrey up. "Surely you can give them a few rounds!"

"I've accommodated His Highness enough," Rodrik said shortly, no longer willing to be pushed around. "Robb bested him fairly. A rematch can wait, until another time." Once Robb was free, he made his way over, attempting to give Joffrey a handshake.

"Don't touch me," the prince hissed. I didn't think it was possible for someone who had just been publically humiliated to still have their ass on their shoulders, but… Tommen came running up to Joffrey.

"Joff, you were good—" He turned on his little brother in a red-faced fury.

"I don't believe I asked for your pity praise, Tommen. You let Bran put you on your back and ended up like a turtle in the dirt, or have you forgotten?" Tommen, cowed, shrunk in on himself. What an _ass!_

"Come my prince," said giant-ass Clegane. Joffrey was all too happy to have an excuse to turn tail. "The next time."

"Yes. Enjoy today's small victory, Stark." he sneered at all of us as he strolled by with his entourage scrambling to follow, though some looked doubtfully at his back now.

Ser Rodrik came over, looking wary. "You put me in quite the spot, boy," he told Robb. Robb looked apologetic and started to speak. Rodrik held up a hand. "No explanation is required. I understand." He took away Robb's blade. "And, I can tell your lord father that you made Winterfell very proud today." There was a small smile on the old man's lips. Robb returned it, Bran and Rickon giggling as they kept hugging their brother.

I got on my back feet and tugged at Robb's sleeve until he crouched down and began stroking my fur. I found myself licking his cheek, something I'd never done to _anyone_ before, wolf or not. His skin was salty with sweat, but I was so happy that someone had fucked over Joffrey's pride, I could live with that. All's well that ends well, I'd say.

* * *

I felt stares, and I didn't think I was being paranoid. When I looked up, I was half-surprised to see two little kids watching me. Both blonde-haired with big green eyes. The queen's kids. Technically, they were the king's too, but when I looked at them, all I could see was Queen Cersei, and not just because of their looks. It was weird.

They looked at me with curious but frightened expressions. I was a little confused at first. Then I remembered that despite the fact that no one in Winterfell batted an eye at the Stark family having wolves, these kids had probably never been close to one. I did what I always use to do when kids would stare at me; I gave them one of my awkward smiles. Of course since I was a wolf it might have been making the situation worse…

They gasped and shuffled back slightly, like they thought I was going to lunge. I was a little put out, until one of my favorite Starks came to the rescue. "It's alright. She's nice." The blonde kids turned, looking startled to see Bran. As if to demonstrate my tameness, he petted me gently, and I leaned into it. "Her name is Opal. Do you want to pet her?"

The siblings shared looks, as if trying to decide who would summon their bravery first. Finally, it was the girl who shyly stepped over, moving carefully in her dress. She reached her small hand for my head shakily and when she saw I didn't react negatively, slowly placed it down on my fur. I looked into her eyes and she smiled a little.

Her hand stroked my head and neck while Bran's kept stroking my back. "She's so soft." The little girl murmured. The boy slowly edged closer once he saw his sister wasn't in imminent danger. "Come here, Tommen. It's alright."

It just occured to me, but...that's a weird name. Regardless, I watched him get closer and carefully kneel down, joining the other hands feeling my fur. I can't describe how nice it was. Sort of the same sensation of having someone softly run their fingers through your hair.

"She's even fluffier than Ser Pounce." Tommen giggled.

"I've never seen a wolf this close before," the little princess said in awe.

' _I've never seen royalty this close before. William and Kate never returned my phone calls about babysitting.'_ I barked a laugh at my own joke, not that anyone understood.

"Not just a wolf, she's a direwolf." Bran stated. There it was again, that distinction. Wolves and direwolves were clearly not the same. Especially because, there was no way an ordinary wolf, no matter the species, could grow as large as the female wolf who'd given birth to me. Direwolves were something special, something that I didn't have in my own time.

"Just like your House sigil?" The princess asked, intrigued. Come to think of it…I remembered the day that Lord Stark and the others had found us all in the woods. Jon had said the Starks should raise us, because direwolves were the sigil of their House.

Bran nodded, smiling. "Yes, that's why Jon told Father we should have them." He had remembered back to that day too.

"I had a fawn," Tommen said quietly. I remembered reading that a stag was the House sigil for the Baratheons.

"What happened to it?" Bran asked.

Tommen hung his head, his big green eyes starting to water. "J-Joffrey killed him." Myrcella took her brother's hand comfortingly.

Bran's hand stilled on my back and I'm pretty sure my eyes widened.

We might have been thinking the same thing. We were officially talking budding psychopath territory. Sadistically killing animals was usually how it all started, right? And Joffrey had already proven he had plenty of other horrible traits to go along with it, so at this point, him being a regular Jeffrey Dahmer in secret didn't seem so farfetched.

And to think Sansa took one look at him and thought he was The One. I wonder what she thought _now_.

Things got slightly awkward after that. The kids continued talking, carefully skirting around Joffrey or any depressing topics.

"You did well out there, Prince Tommen." Bran complimented.

Tommen blushed, "T-Thank you. You were much better than me. And...and Robb really was brilliant against Joff." he said it in a rush, looking afraid that his brother would come charging around the corner, but nothing like that happened, and the talking continued. Myrcella curiously asked what had happened in the training yard, and the boys took turns tripping over themselves to retell the events of the early afternoon.

I was happy, because Bran seemed to have made friends with them. Bran didn't have a lot of friends his age in Winterfell from what I'd seen. It didn't really seem to bother him, but while the royal family was visiting I was hoping Tommen and Myrcella (another strange name) could keep Bran company.

The moment was totally interrupted when Cersei noticed where her two youngest children were. "Tommen! Myrcella!" she called. "On the floor and playing with that beast?" she looked at me coldly and I glared right back. Cersei looked a little taken aback. What would she do if I stuck out my tongue, too? I didn't have to worry about pleasantries the way people did, lucky me. I was free to be as disrespectful as I wanted. It's funny how I never really saw the perks in being an animal until the royal family showed up.

"Up. It's no place for a prince and princess." The siblings stood, glancing sadly down at me, then Bran.

"Sorry, Mother…" Tommen said. "Opal is really very nice, for a direwolf." I decided I wouldn't take offense to the last part he tacked on.

And you're 'really very nice' for Cersei's spawn I woofed, feeling my tail wag.

I still thought Cersei was being kind of bitchy though. …Her kids were just talking to another boy their own age. God forbid kids make friends around here.

She was that helicopter mom who would ever so politely skirt her children away from all the other "riffraff" at the playground, like she was afraid they'd catch something incurable.

Bran looked cowed. He bowed his head quickly. "Your Grace…" he muttered. I guess I couldn't blame him. He was only a little boy, and Cersei was a seasoned ice bitch. I didn't really expect a ten-year old to go toe-to-toe with her.

Cersei looked at us with thinly veiled contempt. "I'm sure she is." She said, answering Tommen. "However, direwolves are not like Ser Pounce, my love. They are wild animals." She looked at Bran. "Thank you for entertaining my children."

Bran nodded, still not meeting the queen's eyes. "Of course, Your Grace."

Cersei held out her hands and Tommen and Myrcella moved to take them. I felt a lot of pity for those kids. I turned to Bran, who was looking at me sadly. He had clearly enjoyed the company. I thought your mom was overprotective, but I guess we should both be glad. I woofed again, putting a paw on his arm. That cheered him up I think. Not like he understood what I said but he still cracked a smile as he stood.

"I should find Summer. We were playing and I'm supposed to be trying to find him. He'll be cross with me now." I cocked my head, curious. Sounded like hide-and-seek to me. Did that game exist here? Apparently some version of it did.

If I had my way, and I definitely would, I'd bring Cersei down a notch too, and make sure Bran could be friends with whoever he wanted, including Tommen and Myrcella. They seemed like good kids. Not like their horrible, idiot brother. Tomorrow, I'd find a way to make sure to find a way they could all play together again. Right now, though, I wanted to find the older boys, wherever they were, because I was sure there'd be more gossip exchanged, and that was sort of how I was getting my castle news.

Sometimes, I knew exactly what they'd be talking about, because I'd have been the direct cause. Other times, like with how Sansa was currently feeling about Joffrey, I would have to hope one of them knew. Or better still...I could find Sansa herself. Where would she be this time of day? Weren't her lessons over? I'd try her room, first. If she wasn't there, I could give up and wait for the three stooges to tell me what was happening.

Sniffing my way through the castle and up the tower stairs to Sansa's room, only stopping _occasionally_ because I smelled something more interesting (I was getting better at tracking but still had a hard time suppressing my animal hindbrain), I found Sansa's door and scratched at it. The flowery and somewhat lemony twang of Sansa's scent got stronger as she came to the door and peeked around it.

"Oh," she smiled when she saw me. "Opal," the door opened and she let me in. Lady and Jeyne were in there too, sitting on the floor. I didn't mind Lady but Jeyne was sometimes sort of annoying. And rude to Arya for no reason. Well, there was a reason. Sansa didn't stop it.

"Oh, another one! Do you think they'll both do it?" Jeyne asked giddily. Do...what?

"I'm not sure," Sansa settled herself neatly on the bed, picking up something small in her hands. "We can certainly try." She started to shake whatever she had rhythmically and they tinkled. Bells. As Sansa shook, Lady keened along, making the girls giggle.

Sansa stopped and they looked at me expectantly. Seriously? They wanted me to join in on this...? Sansa started up again, and with a deep huff, I joined Lady, just to appease the girls. Better to get this over with.

Jeyne clapped in amusement. "They really are both doing it. How smart!" When Sansa stopped the bells again, Jeyne rubbed Lady's head and my gentle sister dropped her face into her lap.

"Well, they're much smarter than the others, of course," Sansa giggled in agreement. "The girls usually are. Except Arya's," she scrunched her face. "It's just as wild and unmannerly as she is!"

Hey, hey! I barked shortly. Couldn't she go one second without throwing her sister under the bus? "Oh, what is it Opal? You agree, don't you?" Jeyne cooed. I do not, you tuches lecker. This is exactly why she annoyed me. I didn't think Sansa was completely without fault, because she never stood up for her sister, but Jeyne tried way too hard for Sansa's approval. Even if I thought my brother was a pain in the ass. Even if I wanted to vent about him to a friend, everyone knew better than to actually participate and mock him too. That was exclusively _my_ job as a big sister.

Sansa should follow that rule of thumb more. Anyway, how did I get this ball rolling? I couldn't be doing silly tricks in here with them all day. I needed to find a way to turn to the conversation to Joffrey... But how?

* * *

 **Continuing on from my message above to the guest, yes, some heavy canon divergence is coming up very soon. And as far as Opal not being able to follow Jon to the Wall, noted! If I could think of a valid reason for him to stay (because friendship with Theon's wolf seems a little bit of a stretch), I'd gladly keep him there in Winterfell. If war still broke out, (which I'm still considering that it might, tbh) I'd love for him to be on the frontlines fighting the Lannisters with Robb as you mentioned!**

 **Opal/Arden is very perceptive, which balances out her sass. She's no idiot so yes, she will most definitely be finding out things she's likely not meant to, and her nose (which she's been relying on more heavily as of late) will definitely lead her into some difficulties. You're pretty perceptive yourself to have guessed that!**

 **As for Opal's eventual transformation. You can expect that it will give her trouble and be inopportune, that's for sure. ;) It'd be no fun if it happened smoothly. In fact, inconvenience is sort of the catch I've been planning for a while. At least until she learns some sort of control.**

 **Anyway, moving on:**

 **You should know that Arden/Opal knows Yiddish, as is mentioned. It's not her mother tongue, but as more about her human background comes out, we'll learn she used both Yiddish and English frequently in her human life. Occasionally, she'll insult people in it. In this chapter she called Jeyne a "tuches lecker" or an ass kisser/brown noser.**


	9. Chapter 9

**I hadn't really noticed how much time had passed since the last update until I recently checked the date on the story! Sorry! Honestly, I've just been really wrapped up in finishing up college, among other things (I'm still here til August, so I can't say I won't be side-tracked again). My own health and emotions relating to it have been a blocker, and then there's the fact that inspiration would come so much easier on some of my other fics for a while there…. Up until late April I was pretty slammed, with little to no free time for myself. I still have every intention of continuing with this story. Life happens. I truly had no choice but to put things on hold for a bit, but I'm here to say this will move on as planned. Thanks for remaining patient, at any rate.**

* * *

Waiting for Sansa and Jeyne to start talking about Joffrey got boring fast. You'd think with a prince visiting, they'd be eager to jump right into boy talk. For some reason, the fashion faux pas of some kitchen girl was a lot more interesting (to them).

I really didn't understand how Lady sat there so patiently, almost like she was giving the girls her undivided attention as they talked. Me? I was ready to book it. Abort mission. Then, by some miracle, the conversation finally picked up.

"Speaking of fashion, the queen has the prettiest dresses, doesn't she?" Jeyne gushed.

Sansa gave her a flat look. "She _is_ queen, Jeyne. And the prettiest woman in all the realms."

Jeyne went on, sighing dreamily. "Just think of it, Sansa! If you married Prince Joff, you'd have all the tailors she has! All the finest dresses." When she noticed Sansa didn't immediately start agreeing gleefully, she paused. "What is it? Do you not think your father will make the match for you? I thought you asked your mother to get him to…"

Slowly, Sansa bobbed her head, fingers finding purchase in Lady's fur as my sister lazily leaned into her master.

"Yes," she admitted quietly. "It's not that the prince isn't handsome, you know? And being queen's always been everything I've ever wanted…"

"Then what's the problem?" Jeyne pressed.

Sansa, in a rare show of unladylike behavior, made, for lack of a better term, the Bitch Face. "Well every time I've been in the prince's company he seems to be…so childish! Oh Jeyne, don't give me that face! You were there, at the feast. He spit in my face and screamed like a maiden. And…and you heard the whispers of them finding the sheets in the prince's chambers wet. Now he's lost to Robb today, I heard. Robb is good, so normally there wouldn't be shame in losing to him, but…should the prince not be…better?"

"So you're saying _you_ want better?" Jeyne gasped. "Better than a prince? Sansa, it's everything you wanted not even a fortnight ago." she touched the redhead's hand tenderly.

"I know!" Sansa said, a little defensively. "But…but we're just girls, Jeyne. I would still think it'd be wonderful to leave Winterfell, to be a queen even, but…" her voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know if I'd like to be Joffrey's queen."

Jeyne's mouth fell open and she removed her hand, looking at Sansa like she didn't know her. I had the opposite reaction; I was thrilled, my wolf lips stretching into the biggest shit eating grin possible for an animal to make.

 _Well,_ I told Lady, _My work here is done._ Standing, I made a big deal about stretching and then whining as I walked to the door and sat in front of it.

"She wants out, Jeyne," Sansa said absently. "Go and open the door."

Jeyne stood grudgingly, huffing as she opened the door and allowed me to trot out. I was feeling so high on life at the moment, I almost wished there was someone around that I could brag to. You know, besides other wolves.

 **-GoT-**

I walked to dinner that night with Robb and Theon and both of them were in high spirits. Robb had been praised—discreetly, so as not to offend the prince's party, I guess—by everyone from his father to the kennel master. But right before they entered the dining hall, the boys run into—almost literally—a small figure coming from the opposite direction. Tyrion Lannister, with his short legs and alert eyes, bowed mockingly at them.

"Young lords,"

"Lord imp," Theon returned, grinning. Robb shot him a warning look, but Tyrion only smirked wryly.

"No red hair…" Tyrion mused. "And I've met the bastard so you can't be him either. The hostage, no doubt?" The small man quirked his eyebrows as if daring Theon to disagree. I watched my so-called master's jaw tick, but I'm surprised he's not immediately shooting off at the mouth.

What does Tyrion mean… hostage? If Theon's here against his will, then he's got to be living the cushiest life of a kidnapping victim I've ever seen. Not to mention, he's always swaggering around like he actually owns the place, so if not for the obvious fact that he's not a Stark you'd never guess at a glance he was some kind of prisoner. Hm…something else to look into.

"Ah, my apologies," Tyrion grinned lightly, not looking the least bit truly sorry for causing Theon discomfort. "It's just that I've heard about this morning's exploits. Between you and my dear nephew?" He looked up at Robb expectantly.

Robb gave the Lannister a considering look, like he wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. "It was an honor to spar an opponent such as the crowned prince," he replied evenly.

"An honor, eh?" Tyrion muttered. "You flatter my nephew…perhaps more than he deserves?" Grinning knowingly, he went on, "You impressed quite a few of our own men. I feel it is you that deserves the praise. If you'll excuse me," He went off on his small legs, whistling.

Robb and Theon exchanged glances. "Funny one, that imp." Theon grunted. "He doesn't seem overly fond of the prince either…"

"Would you be?" Robb asked.

Theon smiled crookedly, plenty of answer on its own.

* * *

I squirmed out from under the bed with an extra wiggle of my hips. Great, I thought with a groan; that meant I grew again…I wasn't sure what to do when I outgrew the space under Theon's bed entirely. Sleep in the corner of the room or find a new spot, I guess…

But I could cross that proverbial bridge when I came to it. Right now I was flying high off the news that Sansa was getting over her crush on Joffrey and said prince was still suffering a lot of PR problems due to the chain of incidents that yours truly may or may not have had a hand in.

I was pleasantly surprised to see the door wasn't deadbolted shut, but cracked enough for me to slip through. Theon was still sleeping, so either he forgot last night or this was a sign that he was finally starting to trust me more. I took the opportunity to slip out, planning to go through the usual morning rituals—relieve myself outside and greet my wolf siblings.

So I did. Sometime later, I came back inside, fresh from the bathroom and ready to eat. Steal scraps…whatever. I peered into the Great Hall and saw everyone gathering at the table. Tommen and Myrcella gave Bran friendly smiles, sitting closer to him than they did the first night, which meant there was still hope for that plan to go into effect!

The queen was as radiant as ever, yet again, but as I crept further into the room I noticed an oddly familiar, musty aroma. Sad to say, being around Theon, and having these heightened senses, I was far more acquainted with the odor of sex than I would have liked.

Oh, the queen didn't outright reek of brothel like Theon sometimes did…but there was definitely a certain…lingering sex smell I'm sure humans couldn't detect. Covered with carefully dabbed hints of floral perfume, but there nonetheless. When the servants started coming in with trays, one after another, I took the chance to slip in and under the table. Of course the queen sat toward the head of the assembly with Lord and Lady Stark and her husband, the king.

But today it wasn't Ned escorting her, but her brother. Not Tyrion. It was the generic golden boy, the knight. Curiously, he…smelled strange too. The same traces of sex but with some kind of sandalwood or soap instead of perfume to mask it. I sat there, processing the fact that for whatever reason, both the prim queen and her pompously handsome brother came to breakfast smelling like they just had a nice, satisfying romp.

It wasn't that weird… The queen had a husband that seemed insatiable and Ser Jaime was a total pretty boy that likely had no problems attracting women like flies. It was just…the queen and king seemed so cold to each other, so it was hard to imagine them engaging in even the briefest sessions of hate sex. And the secret smiles the golden siblings exchanged as Jaime walked her to her chair... A sudden, horrifying thought struck me and I had to suppress my gag reflexes. I didn't want to get caught by dry heaving under the table.

I mean…what was this time period, really? Practically the Middle Ages. And…and it wasn't unheard of for people to…to _keep it in the family_ back then. Still, the king clearly had a temper, and if I had to guess, even in this era, the queen being discovered banging her brother would be a scandal. If my line of thought was accurate, then this was definitely hush, hush. Oy vey, I was feeling less hungry every second.

Even so, when Arya noticed me underneath the table and began to offer me pieces of sausage, I took them—I had apologized in my head to my mother and my ancestors a thousand times since finding myself in this body, but a wolf had to do what a wolf had to do. The chatter around the table was idle at first. The younger children discussed what games were like in King's Landing versus Winterfell.

Of course, from what I was understanding about geography, King's Landing didn't really see snow. Certainly nothing like what was in Winterfell.

Myrcella timidly admitted at some point that she hardly ever was able to play games anymore, because sewing and etiquette and everything else a princess needed to know, took up so much of her free time. Bran and Rickon and Arya were as dismayed to hear that as if she'd told them she only ever got Brussel sprout cake for her birthday. "We should play then," Arya whispered urgently. "In the wolfswood."

Myrcella and Tommen were quiet, and I could imagine wide-eyed looks. The royal kids probably never played in _any_ woods. "B-But…" Tommen started. "Mother won't allow Myrcella to—"

"We won't _tell_ her," Arya sighed in exasperation. "What good will that do?"

"And if we're caught?" Bran groused. "I don't want to be in trouble with mother _and_ the queen."

"It was my idea." Arya stated with a raised chin. "I'm not afraid to tell them so."

I grinned in pride. Loyal, brave Arya.

None of the kids felt like arguing with Arya putting the blame on herself, so they went on talking about the games they'd play and I went on munching on sausage bits slipped to me under the table. When I had enough, I stopped accepting them, crawling beneath legs and wandering further away.

I ended up near Sansa and the prince and their conversation was incredibly awkward. Sansa was doing her best to be courteous but the delays in her answers and the jilted laughter sort of gave away that she wasn't too interested in the conversation. Who could blame her? I wouldn't wanna talk to an immature, bed-wetter that got his ass beat by my older brother, either. Not exactly husband material.

The rest was more or less up to Ned. He was a reasonable guy, so I think he'd make the right decision. And it helped that Joffrey wasn't in the king's good graces from what I understood. Speaking of the king…he was at the head of the table slurping down food and groping at the ass of any serving girl that wandered too close, not exactly being discreet. Ned and Catelyn were trying not to look while also trying to engage Cersei in conversation, as if she couldn't see what was happening right in front of her eyes.

Once again I thought about how Robert liked to get handsy with everyone _except_ his wife. His wife, who came to breakfast smelling like sex…with or without her husband's assistance, she was getting it on somehow. Personality aside, Cersei was undeniably pretty. Gorgeous even! If anything, it seemed like she'd be the one who wouldn't want to touch him.

There was clearly a lot I didn't know about going on, and I was itching to get back to the library and pour over more tomes. No one could directly answer my questions but books in this brave new world where every word I said came out as a yip, howl or snarl.

Letting breakfast continue, I waited not so patiently for everyone to finish stuffing their faces and get out. I wanted to get to the library. But…it had worked better the last time I snuck in at night, so maybe I should just stick to the that plan? In the meantime, I could stick to my first goal—securing Bran some new friends in the forms of Tommen and Myrcella.

* * *

It was a good opportunity to practice my stealth. I kept to the shadows of the castle with Bran, Rickon, Tommen and Arya. Nymeria and Summer trailed behind me, and Shaggy Dog skulked ahead, always the rebel; I'd encouraged them to hang back a little because four growing wolves skulking behind a group of kids was somehow not the most discreet sight.

Arya had started out in needlepointing after breakfast, and had left in a huff following more ridicule from Jeyne and tittering from Sansa. I would have to do something about them soon… And personally I found it really annoying that girls were forced into hobbies regardless of the fact that they might've been inclined to other things, like the way Arya preferred athletic pursuits and wanted nothing more than to be an equal to the boys.

I noticed when I peeked into the room of girls practicing under the careful eye of Septa Mordane, that Myrcella was clumsy with her needle too. Although unlike Arya, Mordane never gave her anything other than encouraging smiles and heavy praise when she managed a half-decent stitch. Of course, Myrcella was a princess. Who was going to tell her that her needlepointing sucked?

Speaking of needlepointing, it was bound to be ending any minute now… Arya had snuck out early, but Myrcella's royal status meant she didn't have the same luxury. So we all waited at the base of the stairs in the guardroom to whisk her away to the wolfswood. There was no way she'd get there on her own.

When she came out, it looked like the entire class of girls was trailing behind her, all trying to chat up the princess. Even Sansa and Jeyne. Myrcella was smiling a little, but her wide green eyes had an edge of panic. It was a silent scream of ' _Rescue me please!_ ' if I ever saw it. I walked up to them, tail wagging, and lightly pulled at the edge of Myrcella's dress to get her attention. I didn't even try to hide my smug look when the other girls backed up from us.

Myrcella was more surprised than frightened. "Oh!" she gasped, clasping her hands in front of her. She reached down and gave my head a small pat, a flicker of her genuine smile appearing before it was hidden by the blonde curls falling into her face.

Gathering her bravery, Jeyne Poole decided now was the time to interject, less she lose the princess's attention to a wolf pup. "Myrcella, would you like to come with us?" Jeyne offered, and I glared at her. She looked taken aback. "W-We're going to Sansa's room…we'd love it if you'd show us some new Southron hairstyles."

Myrcella fidgeted with her fingers, looking unsure. I was afraid she'd cave in to the older girls out of politeness, so I barked once, turning my head to where Bran and the others waited, hidden behind the steps.

"Would it be alright if we did it another time? I need to find T-Tommen." Sansa and Jeyne looked incredibly put out.

"He's probably off playing with Sansa's brothers. You don't have to be shy, princess. It would be an honor, truly." Jeyne soothed.

Sansa shot Jeyne an impatient look. "Jeyne…if the princess would rather spend her time elsewhere, we shouldn't keep her."

The giant gush of air Myrcella released shook her little body she curtsied clumsily. We watched as Jeyne and Sansa continued on their way, leaving Myrcella and I to sneak away, rendezvousing with the others. Obviously, they'd been watching.

"Stupid Jeyne," Arya whispered. "She calls me Horseface, but it's always her that points her nose into everything."

I could definitely see where Arya's bitterness would be coming from, considering Jeyne frequently made her the butt of all her jokes. Sometimes, I had to wonder if Jeyne was jealous of the Stark girls.

Maybe Sansa more than Arya, but even Arya was technically higher in rank than her, and around here, rank was everything to most people…

I just didn't get the obsession everyone had with status, so instead I focused on walking between my siblings as we followed the kids.

Nymeria nipped at my ears, and I tugged my head away, only to have my tail pulled by the likes of Shaggy Dog. This time, I cuffed at him, but he had gotten quicker and bowed down on his belly, effectively ducking. The kids watched my plight with laughter in their eyes.

"They really are like big puppies." Myrcella commented, moving with her dress loosely clutched in her hands. If anyone thought it was strange to see the prince and princess with three Stark kids and four wolves, all the adults in the area were too hesitant to say.

"How do you train them not to bite?" Tommen wondered, watching as Summer and Shaggy mouthed playfully at each other.

"They know the difference between us and each other." Bran shrugged. "Summer nips sometimes, but never hard." As if to prove his docility, Summer bounded up to Tommen and playfully nudged his hand with a cold nose, making the small prince squeal. Then, seeing the wolf only wanted his attention, he held out an open palm, which Summer graciously licked.

"They make me miss Ser Pounce." Tommen sighed, his mood suddenly becoming more somber. Myrcella rubbed his back gently.

"Ser who?" Rickon paused from taking big jumps to keep pace with Shaggy Dog.

"M-My kitten. Uncle Tyrion gave him to me." Tommen fidgeted with his fingers, green eyes becoming watery again. "M-Mother told me I should leave him at the castle, but I wanted him to be with me. But I lost him when we stopped for a rest near Winter Town. Joff spooked him and he ran out of my arms."

My hatred for Joffrey flared up yet again as I saw Tommen rub his tears away on his sleeve. "Nymeria wanders off sometimes…but she always comes back to me. She even sleeps on my bed at night." Arya exclaimed proudly. "Your cat'll come back to you too, if you give him time."

Something about Arya's confidence must have made Tommen feel a little better, because he smiled a bit after that.

By the time we reached the stables, everyone was in high spirits again.

Bran barged his way in first, followed closely by Arya. Tommen and Myrcella were more timid, and I couldn't tell if it was because of courtesy or because the idea of being in horse stable was so foreign to them. Rickon had decided to wait outside and wrestle with Shaggy Dog. I kept a careful eye on them as I stood in the threshold, making sure Shaggy's playing didn't get too rough. I had been on the receiving end of enough of his ear yanking, tail jerking, and quarterback tackles to know he tended to lose himself in the moment when it came to play.

"Hodor!" Bran yelled.

Hodor, who had been brushing a horse, turned and greeted us with a shout of his own name. I had really only seen him on two other occasions, and it wasn't hard to see he was…impaired. But at least he had some work around Winterfell, minding the horses, and the Starks treated him well, from what I'd seen. I was satisfied with that.

Honestly, for someone like him it could be a lot worse. I couldn't imagine what life was like for the poor bastards who _didn't_ have mental handicaps that served the royal family. Robert constantly groping female servants, Cersei icing out everyone, Joffrey _existing_ …. For someone like poor Hodor living in King's Landing would be cruel and unusual punishment.

"Hodor, we're going riding." Bran explained. "Could you get my pony ready? And one more, for Tommen and Rickon."

Arya had insisted on the walk over she didn't need a horse, nor a pony, because she intended to race with Nymeria all the way to the wolfswood.

"I don't need a pony!" Rickon hopped up and down. "I can run too."

"Your legs are too short. You'll get tired soon." Arya pointed out, bopping him casually on the nose in the way a big sister did. Rickon retaliated by yanking at her hair. It devolved from there into them poking at and annoying each other. Bran sighed heavily, dutifully ignoring them. The prince and princess looked amused.

"But can you do it?" he asked hopefully.

"Hodor…? Hodor." Hodor scrambled to get the pony I recognized as the one Bran normally rode saddled up as the kids looked on and my siblings waited anxiously outside in the sunshine. A small thought flitted through my mind, that when they—we—got bigger, like Mama Wolf had been, then horses would look more like prey than an intimidating, larger hoofed animal. Mama Wolf could have easily ripped the belly out of a full grown stallion if she got the jump on it.

One day, would I want to do the same? Right now, I shuddered at the idea of killing a horse like that, but deep inside, the feral side I was always suppressing lifted her head and licked her chops, interested at the prospect of that future challenge.

"Hodor," I crammed the little hellion living inside back down, seeing that Hodor had finished preparing Bran's pony.

Bran took the reins from him and started to guide her outside. "She's for you to ride, Princess." Bran told Myrcella. "She's sweet, so she won't mind if a stranger rides her."

Myrcella's eyes snapped to the pony then to Bran and she blushed bashfully. "What about you?"

"I'll lead her." he volunteered. Taking his hand for support, Myrcella managed to get up on the pony, sitting side-saddle. She wasn't that high off the ground, really, but she still clutched the pony's neck to be sure she would stay on. I almost wanted to laugh at how sheltered these kids apparently were, but then I remembered Cersei was their mom, Joffrey was their brother, and they had a fat, drunk king as their dad, and my instant pity stopped me.

Hodor finished readying the other pony, and little Tommen got on, without assistance, I may add. Well, at least they let him do _something_ like a normal boy back home. When we set out, it almost felt like we were on a quest. Or the early level in a video game. My little brother adored those online games with the mages, knights and healers when he was younger. A bunch of kids riding on ponies into the woods with wolves trailing them made us seem kinda like a wayward party from one of his games.

Arya and Rickon took off racing against their wolves, just like they said they would. Summer and I stayed with Bran, Myrcella and Tommen, who were making more of a leisurely pace, watching out for any adults that would stop us. The Stark kids playing games in the woods probably wasn't that big of a deal. But something told me to Cersei, her kids romping around in the great outdoors was downright scandalous.

I mean, it's not like she'd want Myrcella to learn a princess could do something besides sewing, dancing and learning to be somebody's wife one day. And what would we do if Tommen actually broke out of his shell and gained some confidence from playing with other boys his own age. An older brother who tormented him and killed off his pets was the best option, you see.

"Mother says woods are dangerous," Myrcella was muttering, still holding onto the pony's neck. "That's why I can't play there at home."

Bran cocked his head, trying to decide how to respond. "I've played there since I could walk. We all have!" he boasted. "With the wolves, nothing will bother us."

"The wolves," Tommen looked down at me, and I put on my friendliest face, my tail wagging lazily. "You're right, Bran. Mother told us they were dangerous too. But your wolves are all so nice."

"It's because we've had them since they were so young." Bran guided the pony around another bend so we wouldn't be spotted by a young boy trying to shepherd a group of pigs by. Tommen's pony followed Bran's. Summer's eyes lingered on the waddling pigs, but he snapped out of it as they passed by. "The wolfswood is where they came from. Their mother was dead from a stag's antlers, so father said we could keep them, but we'd have to raise and train them ourselves."

The royal siblings looked impressed by the tale, their green eyes shining with curiosity. Maybe they wished, in some ways, that their family was more like the Starks? I mean, if they tried to bring pets home, either Cersei would say no or Joffrey would kill it.

We were approaching the entrance to the wolfswood, Arya and Rickon darting in with their wolves at their sides, no hesitation. Tommen and Myrcella sucked in twin breaths of apprehension, suddenly looking like they were regretting everything. I had a hard time telling if they were scared of the woods or of getting in trouble. Bran stopped the pony he was leading. "We'll leave them tied here, at the entrance."

Myrcella carefully dismounted, brushing the front of her dress off fretfully. Tommen climbed off his own pony and helped Bran tie the reins to a tree. I scented the air, smelling the unique mixture of animals, snow, outdoors and smoke from somewhere far off. So...this was where I was born. It occurred to me this was my first time back. That alone was enough to make me feel invigorated.

I bounded around in a circle, barking at Summer and trying to encourage him to join me. He watched, sitting there like a wet blanket. Rolling my eyes, I decided he was a lost cause and went to catch up with Nymeria and Shaggy Dog. Up ahead, Rickon and Arya had already found sizable sticks and were poking at each other like they were having a swordfight.

"Have you ever played Monsters and Maidens?" Bran asked them.

Tommen and Myrcella exchanged baffled looks. "What's that?"

"You've never played Monsters and Maidens?" Rickon exclaimed, darting by with Shaggy at his heels. "How do you have fun at home?"

"We'll teach you," Arya offered. "We need two teams. One to be monsters and one to be maidens. The Monsters have to catch the Maidens and take them to the crypts." She pointed to a spot where two thin trees had bowed in the middle to form a sort of...arc. "Whoever's left last, wins."

"I wanna be a monster!" Rickon eagerly bared his teeth in what was supposed to be a snarl.

"Myrcella, Tommen, you two be Maidens." Arya instructed.

"M-Me?" Tommen was clearly flustered, his round cheeks heating up fast.

"Boys can be maidens too, if there aren't enough girls." she defended. "I'll be a Monster. Bran, You be a Maiden too, or it won't be fair."

It'd be a lie to say Bran looked _thrilled_ to be in the role, but he consented, albeit reluctantly. Everyone took their starting places. Monsters on one side. Maidens on the other. Wolves milling around in the middle. We'd been given a sort of...improvised role. I guess we were obstacles to both sides who would be frolicking around in between the teams. Like those annoying little shits that slowed me down when I played Mario with Emmet at home.

"Ready? Go!" The two teams took off, and right away, Shaggy was having a blast zigzagging after everyone, trying to decide whose heels to go for. I stuck close to him so he didn't go too far, and Summer boxed him in from his other side, so we looked pretty funny, like three pups glued together. Like a cheap imitation of Cerberus. Instead of guarding the Underworld, we made Rickon trip into the light dusting of snow that was still scattered on the ground. He came up with his face looking like he'd stuck it in a deep freezer, and I barked a laugh.

Myrcella, getting the hang of the game pretty quickly, took the opportunity to dart around the little boy that had been chasing her and escape. Arya was hot on Tommen's trail, and I watched his blonde hair bouncing as he ran from her. I bet Arya could catch him in an instant if she wanted to, but in the interest of sportsmanship, she allowed Tommen to keep stumbling away.

I noticed as I feinted at him from the right that for someone that didn't want to play a Maiden to begin with, Bran was really milking this whole thing. Every time Rickon came too close, he'd let out an exaggeratedly high-pitched squeal, or throw his arm to his face as if he were truly in peril. I snorted up some of the lightly drifting slow in the process of laughing. Bran was getting more into this than even Myrcella.

All the kids were red-faced in no time at all, the chilly wind stinging their faces and happy tears prickling their eyes. The game was sort of progressing in a stalemate since neither side made much progress on the other. That was, until Arya finally dove at Bran and they both went down, rolling around on the ground much like my litter mates often did. "Get off!" Bran laughed, shoving at her.

Arya held firm, trying to tug him to the crypt by his furs. Rickon saw this as an opportunity to get the drop on Tommen and Myrcella, and as they watched the Stark duo struggling in the snow, he ran behind some trees, quickly climbed one, and flew down like a lemur, screeching the whole time.

Naturally, he gave his position away the minute he opened his mouth, but Tommen and Myrcella were so stunned, it worked out anyway. And despite the prince's best attempts to dive out of the way, Rickon grabbed him by his ankles, causing him to fall to the ground. Luckily, it wasn't such a high jump, and neither boy was hurt, but Prince Tommen was squealing like a stuck pick, reaching for his sister as if Rickon couldn't easily be overpowered. "Help me, Cella!"

Myrcella fidgeted, her eyes warm with sympathy, but a small smile worming its way onto her pink mouth. Bran and Tommen looked done for, wailing over their shared fate even as they got dragged to the "crypt".

Shaggy Dog was helping restrain Tommen...if you could even call it that. Really, Rickon had switched to dragging him by his arms, and Shaggy had decided it was the best time to try and steal the poor prince's boot. Knowing how those two could be, I started to move to Tommen's aid, but the heavier crunches coming our way made my ears prick, and I stopped to listen.

I could hear two male voices, chatting amiably. It sounded like maybe they were coming from another direction than the one we'd used. I bolted off, leaving the kids to their game, crouching down low to the ground and slinking along on my belly when I came to a spot where I could see two familiar men. Robert and Ned, of all people, were laughing like one of them had just finished sharing a good inside joke. Ned's normally serious face was softened just the smallest bit by a smile. He didn't look as...weathered when he smiled. Neither of them noticed me, and I felt like they didn't know their kids were out here either. Yet, anyway...

A particularly loud shriek from Tommen remedied that, and they stilled, Robert placing a hand in front of Ned to stop him. "You hear that?"

From my hiding spot, I sighed loudly. 'Duh _dude, who didn't?'_

"No crow, by the sounds of it." Ned confirmed, back to his solemn persona. I followed them, keeping to the tree line as they the marched right toward where my siblings and the kids were still caught up in their game. I held my breath, expecting the worst...like spankings for everybody or something.

But, when they saw the kids, the tension taut on their faces lessened almost immediately. It was clear no one was hurt and there was no threat.

"Well, well..." Robert began. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Aye. Us. As boys at the Vale." Ned watched the way Bran got up and broke free from Arya to run off just before she could drag him to the spot marked as the "crypt".

"Just like old times...except here we are, two old men, and they...they're the ones having their own adventures now." Robert waved a big arm at them, a fond look of reminiscence on his face. "This is how it should be, Ned. I tell you, up there in King's Landing, the kids are under Cersei's thumb, night and day. My oldest son, heir to the throne...Well, you've met the boy, so you understand. I don't want that for Tommen. And I don't need a daughter that's been raised a second Cersei. Look at your daughter." He pointed at Arya. "Isn't she just like Lyanna?"

 _'Who?'_ I wondered. Whoever she was, Robert had a lot more reverence and awe over her then I'd ever heard him say his own wife's name with.

"They are...similar." Ned cleared his throat. "What are you getting at Robert? I don't think the queen will appreciate you encouraging any of them to behave like this in King's Landing."

"Bah!" Robert waved the concern away. "King's Landing..." he repeated scornfully. It was intriguing to hear a king hold so much contempt for the place that was supposed to be his seat of power. I half expected for Robert to start bellowing on some rant, but instead he only kept watching the children quietly. I could feel the shift in his thinking in that moment. He was...plotting something out. Ned felt it too, I was sure. I bet our thoughts were the same, or at least close. Both of us wanted to know what the hell was in Robert's head, and what sort of changes it would mean for Winterfell.

* * *

 **Thank you to the anon that suggested this scene of Ned and Robert finding the kids playing in the wolfswood! I really liked the implications it could have if Robert starts his schemes to connect the Starks and Baratheons in another way, as you said.**

 **I am glad I got this chapter done, because for the longest time I have wanted Opal to hang around with the younger kids a little more.** **I'm hoping that with school coming to an end for me in another week, I will be able to focus more time and attention to this story. Opal will have a few more tricks up her sleeve before the royals leave Winterfell. And I'd expect some more surprises, too.**

 **Please review~**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, before we begin two guest reviews I'd like to address…**

 **Guest: "** _I hate Theon. Why ruin it for me? Sorry, but bye!_ **"**

 **Mm, okay, so you…felt the need to say this why? I guess I didn't know that I had to spell things out in the summary and thought that readers were smart enough to infer that the person living with the Starks in early seasons/chapters with the most obnoxious, "man-whorish" tendencies was Theon... I also guess I didn't know I was writing this story for you, specifically. My bad—should have run it by you first. Reader entitlement...is…very irritating to be kind about it. It's very easy to make a silent, graceful exit at any point if something in the fic doesn't appeal to you.**

 **Sam: "** _It would be amazing if Jon catches Opal doing something "human" like reading a book. I'd like him to find out she's a human girl in a wolf's body before he leaves for the wall. I really do NOT want him to get with that wildling Ygritte._ **"**

 **While I am genuinely very neutral about most pairings in the GoT fandom and could ship or not ship almost anything (except maybe Gendraya (?) which I have been into from the start)…you give me an idea with that suggestion. Hm… Also, it probably seems like Jon is the strong contender for a love interest when she becomes human again, but I've always enjoyed a twist, so final decision on that is anyone's guess (including mine). But seriously, interesting comment!**

 **Other than that, not much to say here, so let's jump right into it.**

* * *

There are some ideas that take careful planning to properly execute, and some that come in a sudden bolt of inspiration. My morning started with me being visited by the latter. Having snuck into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of fresh roasted meat, I was hoping to get ahead of the breakfast rush.

Theon wasn't paying me much attention this early in the morning and that made it even easier. The last I saw him he was trying to seduce his way into some servant girl's bed later… One would almost think people around here would know better than to fall for it, but nope. Eh. I wasn't his keeper. Not on an empty stomach.

If I played my cards right, tilted my head just so and cast big, sad eyes up at whichever servant seemed the most vulnerable to my charms, I could possibly get some scraps fresh from the source instead of waiting on it to be handed to me under the table. Originally, that was all I wanted. Plans to snag fresh food came to a screeching halt when I spotted a large tub of berries, set to the side. Everyone was focused mostly on the baking and the meat carving and cooking that went into preparing a meal for a castle of people.

The fruit? Not so much. Maybe these were meant to go into some kind of pastry…or maybe they'd be served as is. Didn't really matter. Because the longer I looked at them…their wonderfully crimson color, the more an idea wedged itself into my head. They looked like the kind that would stain right into clothes. I made sure everyone in the kitchen was still occupied, creeping closer to the edge of the tub and then plunging in unceremoniously. My legs and underbelly were immediately splattered in dark red berry juice. I carefully lowered my head, chewed some berries and let the juice dribble down my muzzle.

"Oi!" I turned, noticing some very angry servants had spotted me and quickly hurrying out of the tub, scampering across the kitchen floor and narrowly ducking the wooden spoon thrown after me. It was fine. Well, except that I was on the kitchen staff's shitlist… But, I looked down at myself in pride. I was confident this was enough to accomplish my spur of the moment objective.

I trotted around the corner from the kitchens and sat back on my haunches, watching everyone start to congregate in the Great Hall. The smell of smoked meats and fresh bread was wafting through the air now, making my stomach twinge in appreciation.

' _Soon, stomach…soon.'_ I promised. With every day, my appetite seemed to grow. I put that down to the needs of this body, which in my speculation, was still far from done growing…

I didn't mind being the size that I was for now, though. It had its own perks. I eyed Queen Cersei making her way into the breakfast hall, stone-faced and with her children all trailing behind her. She wasn't wearing a gown as lavish as she'd had on that first night.

A magenta gown that didn't have any jewels or an overly-long train, but some kind of golden embroidery around the neckline and sleeves. The gown was pretty, but it was Cersei who made it shine effortlessly. I noticed after the grand entrance at the feast on the first night, the royal family tended to come into the Great Hall much more casually. As casually as someone could be, having breakfast in a fancy dress anyway.

While the golden haired siblings and their mother walked together, Robert wasn't really concerned about leaving his family. He'd somehow waddled his way right past them to take his spot near Ned and Catelyn, with no concern for helping his wife to her seat. Not for the first time, I pitied Cersei, but then deep in my heart I knew it wasn't really enough to say I liked her.

I dragged myself forward. And I truly do mean dragged. Whimpering pitifully, I stumbled toward the preoccupied queen who was talking to Joffrey in low whispers. Myrcella and Tommen noticed me first with surprise evident on both their faces. Tyrion, who was next to his brother, also saw me and appeared amused as I staggered, acting the part of a gravely wounded animal.

"Mother," Joffrey said, and Cersei finally spotted me seconds before I flopped down in front of her with one final shudder, making sure to let my berry-stained paws touch her dress and my drool slip onto her foot.

The reaction was pretty immediate. The queen gave an indignant shriek, stepping back and forcing everyone behind her to fall back too. It drew all eyes to her, naturally. I was trying to remain convincingly "dead" so I couldn't look around or smile like I wanted to, but I heard everything.

"Jaime, you may want to catch our dear sister. It seems she's a bit unsteady on her feet this morning—perhaps too much drink last night— and can't see her way to the table."

"Shut up," Cersei hissed quietly, unamused, "This terrible creature's gone and…and _expired_ on me! Ruined my gown with its filthy blood. If it wasn't already dead I'd have it dealt with."

Expired? If I could have, I'd roll my eyes. My fur was white but I wasn't milk. I tried to keep my tail from twitching. As I'd come to expect from the royals, it was plain theatrics. It wasn't even like she'd have worn this gown again regardless. I didn't see her as the type of person to wear anything twice. And all it would take was a quick hand-washing from some poor servant. Cersei definitely didn't do her own laundry.

More people had come over now; I could hear the additional sets of footsteps. "Opal," someone said, and I found myself lifted out of the queen's way. Sadly, the joke appeared to be over already. I opened my eyes, wriggling in the arms holding me with a pleased grin. The queen's face was absolutely venomous, but strangely, the rest of her family, save for Joffrey, had hidden smiles on their faces. Tyrion was hiding it a little less so than the others, maybe… Jaime was trying to look pissed, in solidarity I guess, but really, he wasn't doing a good job. His eyes were laughing. Well…I still didn't like him much but at least he appreciated a good joke when he saw one.

"Take her out to the kennels, Robb." I could her Catelyn saying, frantic as she rushed for the queen and took her arm. I glanced up and sure enough, Robb was the one who'd come and gotten me. He was wearing a stern expression, to his credit, and he obeyed his mother without a word, carrying me out of the dining hall and away from the delicious scraps I could have had. In hindsight, I might not have thought it all through. But, the look on Cersei's face was one I would cherish, and that made it almost all worth it.

When we were out of earshot, Robb started snickering, and his blue eyes were dancing in that way I loved. "You've gone and done it now." he said. "The queen won't forget this." There wasn't any anger though. He wasn't even _pretending_ to scold me.

 _Yeah, I know._ I sighed. _I only have myself to blame…but hey, if you really want to be a good friend… come visit me? And maybe bring some scraps?_

Robb looked me over with clear pity in his eyes, shaking his head with a small grin. "I hope that was worth it,"

And despite where it'd led me, I definitely thought it was. Pranking Cersei was a once in a lifetime opportunity—probably.

The dogs inside the kennel perked up immediately when they saw someone they hoped would pay them some attention. There was a chorus of exciting barking, a sea of wagging tails, and dozens of different snouts nosing their way over the gates. Robb took the time to scratch a few behind the ears, and that just encouraged them even more.

Turning away from them, he found me an empty pen and lowered me over the side. I glanced around, unimpressed. The straw on the ground smelled clean, and at least I had my little time-out corner to myself, but I have to say, I preferred my freedom. Well, I guess none of the dogs stuck in here ever really complained about their accommodations. They were happy for a pat on the head, some scraps, and the chance to hunt when they were needed for it. Simple dog things. It had already been established that I was neither simple or a dog.

"There," Robb said, "All settled. I'll bring by some scraps after breakfast." And he started to walk away, shaking his head as if he still couldn't believe what I'd done.

I noticed when he disappeared and the dogs settled a little that he didn't bother chaining me up like Shaggy Dog had been. I had a hard time believing he honestly forgot how determined I was. I could get out at any time, if I really wanted. But I decided I'd bide my time and wait for things to cool down in the castle. If Catelyn caught me roaming around right now she might personally skin my hide.

I huffed, the smell of straw and dog making my nose twitch. One of the mutts in the pen next to mine came over and started nosing around curiously. I watched him, wondering how much easier life could be if I was a dog, and not a girl trapped in a wolf trapped in some fantasy world come to life.

Honestly, almost all doubts had been removed. I was living this somehow; I wasn't dreaming. Sure, there was still a chance I was in a coma…but every day as I became more familiar with the new people and the new place I had been living in for months, the more that theory seemed farfetched, ironically. If only Jean could see me now. I flopped down onto the ground, trying to ignore the way the straw felt poking at my belly and the persistent hunger. I brought this on myself, like it or not.

Lazily, I watched a few more dogs come and poke their snouts through the slats, tongues lolling out as they inspected the newcomer. If they were smarter, they'd avoid being anywhere near a wolf. Then again, I was still very much a pup, and not a full-grown menacing beast of a lupine. One day, though…

I was just settling on my back for an attempt at a nap when the kennel doors creaked and then swung open. Needless to say I was up and on my feet before anyone had stepped through. To my surprise, it wasn't Robb, or the kennel master, or anyone else I'd expect to see. Instead Tyrion peered around with mild interest, swigging from his wineskin.

Despite that it was _way_ too early to be drinking, he looked perfectly alert, eyes shifting to me almost instantly. Swaggering over, he leaned into my pen, and I trailed closer, lifting myself up to lean on the gate.

"Ah, there's the clever animal I wanted to see," He reached down and pulled out a small cloth from the Great Hall, unwrapping it to reveal some scraps. My mouth was watering, and I could have eaten those scraps and his hand at the same time when he offered it, but to keep up the wary wolf act, I sniffed at his palm, looked into his face and licked my lips. "Go on then," he encouraged. "You've managed to do what I've been attempting for years, in minutes. I'd say that deserves a reward."

Not seeing the need to continue the charade, I went for the bits of honeyed bird he'd brought, the tender meat and hint of sweetness cooked into the bird melting on my tongue. Tyrion brought out more, and I ate that too. The dogs saw he was passing out treats and they clambered over as close as they could, jumping up against the side of the gate and whining pitifully.

I ignored them, and so did Tyrion. All too soon, what he'd brought was gone and I realized while it had taken the edge off a little, I was still hungry. I appreciated the gesture though, and I made an effort to let him know by offering my head for him to pet. Some might say that was self-indulgent and more to my benefit than Tyrion's, but he seemed pleased as he stroked my head, so I maintained that I was doing a good thing.

"And here I find you, outside conspiring with the beast who's traumatized our poor sister." Jaime said flatly. Great, _this guy_. My fur bristled a little, but I pretended not to mind his presence. Tyrion was unconcerned, barely looking up.

"Dwarves don't conspire, brother," Tyrion replied. "No one pays us any attention, so we learn far too much. It wouldn't be fair. We'd be running the Seven Kingdoms by now."

Jaime smirked. "I see," He joined Tyrion at my pen, casually propping his elbows on the wood and leaning over. I peered up into his face, making an unimpressed grunt. Jaime raised a brow. "You know, you may just get your chance…"

Tyrion laughed, short and self-deprecating. "You mock. You know my ass will never get anywhere near the Iron Throne."

"Perhaps not…" His brother shrugged, green eyes contemplative. I wasn't sure I liked that look. "But father, on the other hand…"

That got Tyrion to stop petting. I would have been annoyed, but that had caught my attention too. I didn't know their dear old dad, but I didn't trust a Lannister. Tyrion was alright so far, but the rest? "Oh? And what of Lord Stark? You know as well as I that Robert's had plans to make him King's Hand before the old one was even fully cold."

"Lord Stark, it seems, may turn down the position." I had to stop myself from jumping up and down. But I couldn't calm down my treacherous tail, which wagged uncontrollably. I was putting bits and pieces together, just like I'd been doing all along. I knew now that the reason for the king's abrupt visit was to lure Ned away from his family and take him back to King's Landing as a, as far as I could tell, vice president of sorts.

Ned was a serious, quiet man that didn't seem like he'd do well surrounded by people like the Lannisters. Someone that valued honor was bound to get trampled by people that put ambition over everything else. A family didn't get to be filthy stinking rich with a squeaky clean legacy…they got to be that way with desire…and lots of it.

"Hmm," Tyrion mulled that over. "There's something to be said about a life of simplicity…even if it comes with nothing but snow. I'm sure Cersei is celebrating even now."

Jaime's smile was thin, "Aside from not having a wolf in the South, there's not much to celebrate."

"And if Cersei were to push Robert toward someone else…maybe tall, strapping and of the King's Guard?"

"Ser Barristan wouldn't be interested," the taller brother laughed dismissively. Tyrion rolled his eyes. Jaime took a deep sigh, flexing his jaw a little, "Life is too short to spend it even more in the service of a king than I already am."

Tyrion nodded once, straightened his body from over the pen, and brushed a hand down his clothes. "Well…A lovely chat this has been, really. But I'm off to Winter Town. There's a pretty whore there named Ros with an exceptionally wicked tongue."

I backed away through the straw and tried to hide a gag. I don't think I'd ever fully get the obsession with the brothel. "Your own tongue is sharp enough, dear brother. I can't imagine why you'd have need for another," Jaime chuckled.

"Pity then." Tyrion unlatched my pen and I watched it swing open, puzzled. Was he just…letting me go? There were really no harsh feelings on Cersei's behalf? I expected Jaime to have something to say, at least. He was much closer to their sister, to a degree which I'd already established bordered on creepy.

The golden knight had nothing to say, so I scampered out of the pen and stretched, relishing my freedom. Robb might come back with scraps for me like he'd promised he would after breakfast was over, but I didn't feel like waiting around anymore. If I was off the hook, I might as well go and make my rounds for the day. I would need to skirt around Cersei for a while, and of course Catelyn, but that was okay. I had plenty of other places to be and people to see.

* * *

I managed to intercept (and surprise) Robb as he walked with Theon and Grey Wind toward the kennels, holding what I assumed was food for me in his hands. If I had to guess, I'd say they'd come the long way, maybe.

Their eyes fell on me the minute I stepped into their path, Grey Wind moving first to bump against my side in greeting.

"Opal?" The boys paused, and I let them take in the fact that yes indeed, I was standing here in the flesh. I tried to patiently let them get over it, but I was still pretty hungry, so I couldn't help but bark, circling Robb and nosing the air. Whatever he'd taken from breakfast, it had my name all over it. And if it didn't, it would in a minute.

"Doesn't waste time waiting around, does she?" Theon commented, unconcerned with where I'd been at breakfast. Honestly, what was wrong with this guy? He didn't even have anything for me like Robb did, and I was supposed to be _his_ wolf.

"It just proves how clever and independent your wolf is." Robb revealed three fat sausage links, and I started to drool.

"Wasn't clever enough to know she'd be thrown in the kennels by your mother," Theon snickered. I had a thousand comebacks I could possibly give to that, and most of them would be unappreciated anyway…but first, breakfast.

Hot damn! Robb really came through. Three links of sausage? That was actually a lot more than I was expecting. I snapped the first one in half, savoring the grease, and the little hint of iron still in it. Apparently these were done rare.

In my old life, I wouldn't have dared to touch pork, never even had the urge. I grew up well enough on turkey sausage and turkey bacon. But here? I don't think I'd necessarily have the luxury of applying my old food restrictions, and this was a new body and a new life, so did it really even count?

My inner wolf didn't think twice about the weightier moral questions, it just slurped down the first link, and then the next, ignoring Theon and Robb who watched in wonder. When I finished, I licked my snout, growling happily up at them. I decided that wherever they were going, I could join, and maybe I'd be okay avoiding the queen and good old Lady Stark. I fell into step with Grey Wind, who was in step with Robb. I could have walked at Theon's side, but he'd managed to annoy me yet again.

The boys started talking about what they thought of the royal family so far. How the queen was indeed as beautiful as everyone said, but frigid. And then came Theon's obligatory remark about how no matter how cold a woman was, there was someplace that was always warm… Ugh. Next came more than a few laughs at Joffrey's expense. Those I wholeheartedly condoned and even joined in—not that I was anymore understood than usual.

Myrcella and Tommen didn't leave much of an impression on them, which wasn't a surprise considering the age difference between them and the two youngest royal children. Robb thought there was something about Ser Jaime he just couldn't get to like no matter how good with a sword he was, and Theon remarked how just watching Tyrion get around was enough to make him snicker. Jerk.

But at least, they conceded together, he wasn't really looking down on Winterfell and its inhabitants, the way most of his family was. Lastly, there was King Robert, a loud, fat, promiscuous man who'd once been a great warrior, as hard as that was to believe. Robb expressed what I'd already known, that the king's visit wasn't just to see after Ned's health. There was a purpose. He probably already suspected what _that_ was, too.

"But he'll go." Theon said lazily.

"No, he won't. My father's never been interested in any business south of the Neck. Just because the king is an old friend, it doesn't mean it'll change."

"And if it does?" Theon continued breezily, dismissing Robb's discomfort. "If he rides South and becomes Hand? Wouldn't that be nice for you, _Lord_ Robb?"

Robb grunted, Grey Wind sensing his mood and tipping his head up to push at his hand. He didn't hesitate to roughly rub at his wolf's neck, but my brother didn't mind. "I don't trust the Lannisters, and I don't think the king could stop them if they moved against him, no matter his best intentions." he admitted lowly. Theon gave a long owlish blink, for once not making an inappropriate comment or joke. "Besides," Robb concluded. "Starks belong in Winterfell."

That was that on that, and Theon surprised me once again by not pushing.

Funny how I'd gotten so use to the routine of being around them, I knew we were headed for the tiltyard. It was probably already in use; the prince's giant bodyguard Clegane was out there often, and boy was he brutal…

Vaguely, I thought about where Jon and Ghost were. Off brooding most likely. I loved them both, but, what could I say except that they were at times way too committed to the lone wolf aesthetic.

"Do you think the prince will grace us all with another spectacularly subpar display of swordsmanship?" Theon asked suddenly, just as I heard the grunts and clangs of men swinging swords around.

"Doubtful," Robb scoffed. "But maybe we'll be so lucky to see another spectacularly subpar display of sportsmanship."

They shared a snicker over that. Grey Wind decided to lope ahead, spotting something that interested him enough to leave Robb's side. Curious, I followed, knowing our human counterparts wouldn't be far behind.

Turns out Grey Wind had spotted Jon and Ghost, who were already there watching, down on the ground today, standing beside Rickon and a restless Shaggy Dog. I craned my neck back and spotted Arya watching from her vantage point, the top of Nymeria's head poking up at her side.

I nudged Ghost, then Jon's leg, which earned me a pat between the ears. The spot I settled on was next to Rickon and Shaggy though. They were both leaning forward, like they wanted to be closer to the violence. Jon actually put a hand out in front of Rickon like he was afraid the little boy would bolt, at one point.

I personally don't think Rickon would get anywhere near the spar happening now. If that's what you wanted to call it, anyway. The gigantic Sandor Clegane was downing people left and right, and more than a few times squires would go and drag the unconscious person with dented armor out of the way. Or the person he was facing would lose their nerve and yield.

Thank fuck, too. Because I was pretty sure this guy had no qualms about dealing killing blows. Should little boys….really even be watching this? No one was that concerned for Rickon being there, everyone roaring over the drilling going on. I saw Joffrey off to the side, his perfectly princely state back in place as if he'd never had a humiliating loss not so long ago.

The façade shifted a little when Robb joined us and they locked eyes. Joffrey scowled, and then started whispering and laughing with some Lannister men. Did he…pay them to laugh at his jokes? Because from where I was standing, he _was_ the joke.

"They've been at this a while?" Robb asked Jon.

"Aye. Clegane's in a mood, I think. He's been bashing heads left and right. Must be hard to control himself enough to not actually spill blood."

"They call him the Hound for a reason," Theon added. "Not just for the helm either. That came after."

"I hear his brother's called the Mountain." Robb said conspiratorially. "They say he struck down Rhaegar Targaryen's wife after he violated her, and killed their children without mercy. Even the babe."

"Hmm…" Jon responded. A shiver went through me all the way to the tip of my tail. If this Mountain was built anything like his brother, and if he fought as savagely, then there was no doubt in my mind he could be that cruel.

Feeling sick of the fighting, I crept out of the yard while the boys were distracted by a pair of new fighters—Clegane finally working out whatever rage he had going on. My brothers all watched me go, but none of them followed, and that was fine. They could stay close to their masers if they wanted to; I just really needed the breather from all the buzzing testosterone in the air.

* * *

When I found them, Bran was trying to convince Tommen that he could teach him to climb, and of course, the little prince was balking. Although Bran made it look easy, what he did _was_ technically dangerous, not to mention it came with practice and a lot of moxie that frankly, poor little Tommen just didn't have. "We won't start high," he wheedled. "Just a tree."

"What if my clothes snag?" Tommen fretted, glancing down at himself. He wasn't wearing anything as fancy as what he'd arrived in, but it wasn't the comfortable jerkin Bran had on either.

"Mine never have," Bran said unhelpfully. I hadn't exactly expected trying to get him to be friends with the royal children to go over so well. Maybe that showed how eager Bran had been for friends all along. He was definitely being proactive now, trying to engage them in games and conversation all on his own. I was happy for him. It was nice, getting along with your brothers and sisters—my mom was always close to my aunt, and I was always close to Emmet—but having your own friends to play with when your family was driving you crazy? Priceless.

"I…I…" Tommen twiddled his fingers. "H-How high is the tree?" he asked, stalling.

Bran sighed, "High enough to get you off the ground,"

I sat back with Summer and watched them go back and forth in amusement. I knew how much climbing meant to Bran, so the sentiment of him wanting to share that with Tommen was sweet, at the core. But really, Tommen's hesitance came from a sheltered, short existence, so I guess I could see why tree climbing for him was as scary as…falling into a pit of venomous snakes.

Just when I thought Tommen would relent, I heard the crunch of footfalls across the semi-frozen ground, and from my peripheral I saw Tyrion Lannister making his way through the mostly empty courtyard.

"Hello boys," Tyrion came over, something bundled in his arms. "Getting along well I see."

"Uncle," Tommen greeted, no trace of disdain on his face. It was nice that Cersei hadn't corrupted him against Tyrion yet.

"Hello," Bran said, eyeing him in curiosity.

"I've brought something I think you've been missing," he smiled at the little blonde, and the shape in his arms wiggled around so we could all see his dark brown striped fur and the wide eyes peering out.

"Ser Pounce!" Tommen squealed, instantly reaching out his arms for the cat. Tyrion deposited it into a grateful hug and stood back. "Where'd you find him?" he asked, face still smushed up against the tabby. Summer nosed closer to get a sniff or two in.

"Wandering in Winter Town, lost and hungry." The small man hummed. "Now that you've been reunited, be sure to keep a close eye on him." He left with a wink, off to who knows where.

I was happy for Tommen at any rate; he had his pet back and that clearly meant a lot to him. An old memory bubbled up, from when I was young (and human), of the time my brother didn't lock the gate all the way and our dog wiggled out.

I was devastated, and I may or may not have blamed Emmet for a while. Our mom and dad took us around town and we put flyers everywhere, handed them out to people we knew and strangers alike. Eventually, a nice old man brought Sadie back, just in time for the Christmas season. A true Christmas miracle…despite us not even celebrating it.

That was such a long time ago, and yet I distinctly remember the warmth and Sadie lapping at our crying faces as we all piled in and hugged her. A sharp ache filled my chest. I hadn't really spent a considerable amount of time mourning the loss of life as I knew it before, but all of a sudden it hit me hard. All the little things I took for granted and missed so much.

* * *

I was restless that night, slipping out of Theon's room to wander the castle. Well, maybe it couldn't really be called wandering. I knew exactly where I was headed. Back up to the library to pick up where I'd left off, reading that book about the Great Houses. My mind was tormenting me with thoughts about my family and everything else that made me sulk.

I couldn't take it. Laying in the dark and listening to Theon's snores with their faces in my mind. Since childhood, heavy reading before bed was a way I cleared troubled thoughts from my head. I hadn't really had a reason to do it, except the one other time, which was more sheer curiosity than anything…but right now, yeah, I needed to read about some ancient family histories or… _something_.

I crept down dark bends and through lonely halls, light and silent on my feet, putting some of the predator stealth I was finally coming into, to good use. I was attentive to every sound, anything that could have alerted me to anyone I didn't want to be seen by. But so far the coast was clear, and I got to the library without incident.

That was until I was preparing to throw myself up against the door like last time, and noticed it was open more than a crack and candle light was spilling out. Who was here…at this time of night? Who else couldn't sleep? I poked my nose through the crack, then the rest of my snout, and then my whole head.

Tyrion was bowed over a copy of some thick, dusty book, and there was another man I didn't really recognize but I was sure must have lived in the castle, reading in his own chair. It's possible he was only here because Tyrion was, and he wanted to be of assistance in case he needed anything. It was a setback, but after coming all this way, I really wasn't about to turn around and head back to Theon's room yet.

I tried to get in without making a sound, but I knocked the damn table leg with an "oof" and that was all it took to draw their attention. The unfamiliar man startled, but Tyrion only squinted down, and when he registered that I was one of the wolf pups that came and went, he smiled, "Ah hello there little wolf. Come to do some late night reading of your own?"

I bobbed my head once. _Yes, actually. So don't mind me._

"I'm sorry, my lord," The man in the corner stammered, "I'll see to it that it's removed."

"No need," Tyrion said. "Not many animals that can appreciate the intricacies of a good text. I'd be honored to share company with one who can,"

While the librarian tried to figure out if he was joking or not, I headed for the spot where I'd found that book the last time, my eyes skimming over bindings until I at last had it in my sights. Aha! Like before, I pulled it down carefully, moving out of the way as it dropped to the floor with a thump.

"What's it doing?!" The man squealed, mortified I had touched one of the books. Tyrion was watching me, fascinated.

"It's quite hard to glean knowledge from a book without opening it up." He said calmly, "She doesn't seem to want to hurt anything, Chayle."

Chayle? That was his name? I mulled it over, wondering if it would come to me. Nooope. Not familiar to me. Probably someone I hardly crossed paths with. I was always around the kids, and how many of them _willingly_ came and spent time in the library?

Ignoring his whimpers of protest, I worked the book open, and carefully, carefully, flipped through until I found the chapter I stopped on.

It was called " **House Arryn** " and the sigil at the top of this page was some kind of bird with a shield for a body and a crescent moon curving to the right in the middle on T-shaped twig legs. The Arryns were one of the oldest and the purest lines, according to the opening paragraph, of Andal nobility, descendants of Kings of Mountain and Vale, wherever that was located geographically. Their House words, " _As high as honor_ " were pretty cool in my opinion, with a nice chivalrous ring to them.

The chapter went on, talking about the usual things such as the greatest accomplishments throughout history of the members of this House. Their history wasn't quite as intense and exciting as the Starks or the Lannisters, but I soaked it all in, just in case. I read the list of vassal Houses, just like before, and again, one in particular stood out.

Baelish… I…I was sure I'd heard that name too, sometime passing by as Jean was absorbed in an episode. I remember commenting how it sounded like some kind of vegetable, and she'd shushed me.

I pocketed the thought, moving onto the next one. " **House Tully** " was one that instantly struck recognition in me. Jean told me once, in a rant I only half-listened to, that Catelyn Stark was a Tully before she got married.

And really, that was all I remembered. It was an interesting tidbit at present, and I decided to read up on dear old Catelyn's family tree. The Tullys didn't have kings in their heritage, but they apparently managed to hold a castle for a thousand years, and their lands were rich and fertile, so yay for them.

Their sigil was a silver trout on a blue and red background. They lived by the words, "Family, duty, honor" and thousands of years ago, during the War of Conquests, they joined Aegon to rise up against a tyrannical ruler of the riverlands. When the battle was over and Aegon won, he rewarded them by declaring they were the family to hold total dominion of the Trident (again, a geographical territory I'd have to look up later).

That was how all the other Houses in the region became their vassals. I scrolled the list, which had become pretty customary, and from the names I plucked out one that I remembered Jean railing about. I stared long and hard at the name "Frey". If I recalled right, they were monumentally important to the plot in a negative way.

" _Arden, I know you don't watch the show! But have some sympathy. Thanks to those fucking Freys…Robb's…Robb's…"_ Oh fuck, wait a minute… It clicked, like a key finding its home in a lock and getting it open. The Freys…did something bad to Robb. My Robb. Well, Robb Stark. Something protective surged through me, but I couldn't really protect him against a threat I had no clue about.

I mean, I don't even remember what they did that was so horrible. Just that it was, in fact, bad, and that whatever happened to Robb was directly their fault. I remembered Jean being hurt I hadn't cared more, tears dropping from her eyes. At the time, when Robb Stark was a fictitious character, and I was sure I had a zero in a million chance of ever, _ever_ meeting anyone from her precious show, all of it seemed mundane to me. Some bad thing happened to some poor character in some stupid show.

But now I knew Robb as a person, a real one, and I thought…if he was in trouble I'd want to help. Again, it begged the question of how. And would he need my help? I had no idea how much or how little everything I'd lived through reflected in Jean's show. I glanced up at Tyrion. Yeah, he was nose-deep in his book and oblivious to my small meltdown. The other dude was watching me cautiously from the corner of his eye, ready to throw me out at a moment's notice.

Figuring this was possibly a nonexistent problem I'd just conjured, and definitely something that could wait a night, I nosed into the next chapter.

" **House Tyrell** " I liked their sigil, a pretty golden rose on a green background. Their words "Growing stronger" were almost a little like something you'd associate with a persistent weed, but if I stopped and focused long enough, I could imagine beautiful, healthy roses, full and resilient. My neighbor grew some when I was growing up and they were so pretty.

I helped her with yard work one year and she snipped one off the vine for me, removing its thorns and handing it to me in a paper towel lightly soaked with water to keep it up I got it home. I ran home, showed my family, and then put it in a vase and watched it every day, feeling like I was living in Beauty and the Beast.

I was sad when it finally wilted and died, but even that I found morbidly beautiful, watching the petals flutter off one by one. Yeah…I was a weird kid, looking back.

I went back to the chapter eagerly, wanting to read about the flower people. Their rise to power started as a humble climb, originally they were stewards of a king. Through the matrilineal side, they were related to someone named Garth Greenhand, and he truly sounded like a fairytale. The chapter talked about how he wore a crown of vines and flowers, and how his presence made the land bloom. I wasn't sure if they meant literally or if it simply meant he had a hell of a green thumb, but regardless, it was interesting. The Tyrells ruled an area called the Reach, from a seat of power named Highgarden. All I could imagine was a lush place with multiple flowers and fruit trees and beautiful marble pools of clear water. The name gave the place a lot to live up to, and I wondered if I'd ever encounter anyone from the Tyrell family who would be able to explain if their home was as magical as it sounded. None of their vassal Houses struck a chord, so I was able to move on in relative peace.

The next chapter made my mouth drop open, and then I guffawed, my blackened wolf lips twisting into a bitter smirk. Well, well, well…

" **House Greyjoy** " said the page.

' _Impossible_ ' said my mind. But apparently not. And what were the odds, in a world like this, that Theon _wouldn't_ be related to them? Their sigil was a big golden sea monster…a kraken, the pages said. Didn't Tyrion call Theon that once in passing? Oh, I couldn't _wait_ to read _this_. The chapter most certainly didn't disappoint, starting with a bang. They were called the Greyjoys of Pyke, and their family had been around since the Ages of Heroes—a very epic sounding name unfairly associated with people I'm pretty sure are related to Theon—descended from the Grey King. Who, by the by, happened to marry a mermaid.

…Coolio. They were people from the Iron Islands, and they basically raided and plundered wherever they went. They would be called "ironmen" by those who crossed them. They were terrors on the high sea, and fierce in battle… nice. Fucking pirates. My maw opened in a wide yawn, and I blinked rapidly to startle myself awake again. It worked for a little, and then it didn't, and my eyes started to droop.

No, no, no! Not when it was just getting to the best part. My body didn't listen, my head falling to the old page with a sigh. I had come in here hoping to find a way to lull myself to sleep...and unfortunately I had found it, at the _worst_ possible time.

* * *

 **Next chapter will be the last one for the king's visit, and we will hear Robert's verdict and see just how much canon will be changing from this point onward. Will Jon stay or go to the Wall? Will Ned go South? Will there still be a war? Hm…decisions, decisions.**

 **If you enjoyed the chapter, I'd love to hear from you. Until next time.**

 **And happy holidays to anyone who celebrates anything (there are too many to name coming up, hence the somewhat generic well wishes).**


	11. Chapter 11

**I apologize for being away for an extended time. I was battling illness on and off for a while, and several big life changes happened after that, so it took an adjustment period or two. I lost track of GoT during this time and sort of wanted to go back and refresh myself before proceeding with the fic if that makes sense. Your continued support and especially patience is appreciated.**

 **Now, I would just like to address that several people keep leaving me guest reviews regarding including or not including pairs like Jonerys and Jonsa…guys…who said anything about either of those couples? I know due to the show adaptation many people see it as some sort of love triangle and it's a heated thing, but please, leave me and my story out of it. I don't care about those couples honestly lol Not necessarily invested in either per se and there's not really a chance either will be in this fic, even if Arden/Opal ended up with someone other than Jon at the end of the day. So chill out and enjoy the ride. Those pairs aren't relevant to this story and receiving reviews based entirely around them is kind of annoying…Thank you!**

Jackattack3201: _I really enjoy this story and I think you are doing a great job. If I had to say one thing though I think you should pick up the pace just a little bit. 10 chapters in and the first episode isn't even over; don't want writer fatigue to make you stop updating lol. One last thing, please don't turn Opal back into a human. Things could get muddy and complicated and I think the story is strong the way it is. Keep up the good work :)_

 **While your concern is appreciated, this is far from a story I have writer's fatigue with; I simply don't have a whole lot of free time and am stretched thin on how much I can update—period—these days. I've greatly cut back and deleted a lot of older projects I felt I was spinning my wheels on, however that does not do much when real life gets busier for me each year it seems. Also, I wouldn't worry too greatly on the amount of time I spend on the first episode considering events will likely not happen in canonical order for much longer anyway. There's no real point in adding an OC to the main cast unless there's going to be heavy canon divergence, or at least that's my personal thinking. Also, I'm sorry but her not remaining strictly wolf for the duration of the story is pretty important to where the plot ends up. Keeping her an animal, I would honestly have to change a lot more of my ideas than I'm comfortable with now that I've sort of thought out a plan.**

 **As promised, more heavy canon divergence starting in this chapter ~enjoy.**

* * *

Bran was absently petting Summer as he sat in the grass, waiting on the Baratheon siblings. Nearly everyone was out on some dumb wild boar hunt, because Robert was a man child who wanted boar meat for his last night in Winterfell. As if we didn't have enough to eat here as is.

I pondered that, amused with myself. I never thought I'd become one of those people whose response to wanting food out was, "there's plenty here already." I truly felt I was carrying my mom with me now.

Bran kept pursing his lips and squishing Summer's cheeks together. Luckily, the wolf didn't mind much. It was clear our young Stark charge was bored, itching to get up and start off on his next adventure. But he was willing to wait for his friends because he understood how hard it was for them to sneak away to play under their mother's ever watchful and disapproving eyes.

I admit I was a little ready to get going too, sunlight was literally a'wasting. It was never very sunny here, but being covered in fur I was suited for the colder weather anyway, so I didn't care too much.

I was staring lazily up at the sky when I heard Summer woof once, sounding happy. I turned and Bran had perked up as well. The little prince was making his way towards us, his rosy cheeks redder than usual, like he'd been running. He was carrying his beloved cat in his arms. No Myrcella at his side.

"Hello Bran, I'm sorry I kept you." He apologized quickly. Bran slowly stood and brushed off his pants.

"No need." He shrugged. "I had Summer and Opal for company."

He glanced around, clearly noticing a member of their trio was missing. "Where is Myrcella?"

Tommen looked away with a small frown, letting Ser Pounce down. The friendly tabby immediately ambled toward Bran to rub at his legs. "She's with your sisters and the septa, doing needlepoint. Mother says just because we aren't home, it's no reason for Myrcella to stop her lessons."

Bran's face fell. I wanted to scoff. Maybe Cersei's logic was sound. Myrcella was a princess and had to learn all things…ladylike. But needlepoint and etiquette lessons weren't going anywhere. The royal family would only be in Winterfell for a limited time, and Tommen and Myrcella were finally getting a taste of what it meant to be normal kids.

Then Cersei had to go and ruin it because she didn't like the Starks, and she didn't want her children around them. I guess it was harder to find a reason why Tommen couldn't play with another boy, one who was close to his age. But I'm sure she was going to try and keep Myrcella under careful lock and key.

"Well, we'll just have to tell her all about the adventure we have today, and she'll be so jealous she'll want to sneak out and join next time." Bran said.

Tommen smiled.

* * *

I ended up collapsed and heaving at the end of that play session. Between chasing the boys and my two brothers back and forth, I had worked off whatever calories I'd consumed at breakfast.

A dark shape hovered over me, Shaggy Dog coming to inspect if I was truly dead or not. He leaned forward to nip at my face but I turned and shoved him away with my back legs before rolling onto my feet. Shaking my fur out, I slowly walked to check on each boy sprawled out and breathless on the ground. Bran was panting, his eyes bright and a wide grin on his face.

He turned his face toward Summer, who had flopped down next to him, and his companion licked his face. Bran laughed and stroked his wolf's head. Satisfied Summer had it handled, I went to Tommen next. What had once been a tidy little prince was all askew.

But, from the giggling and the way he had played just as hard and kept up with Bran and Rickon today, I'd say the blonde boy was getting used to it. This was how kids should be, royalty or not. Rickon was most definitely alright. He'd waited until Shaggy came over to him and then surged forward and wrapped his arms around my brother's neck. Now he was hanging from the black wolf like a sloth, cackling.

I snorted, shaking my head. Despite attempting to be the sensible babysitter of sorts when the younger kids were involved, I couldn't stop my tail from slowly wagging, feeling content with this. A lot of things had happened since the king and his entourage had come to Winterfell. But this was far from the worst thing to have happened.

"We should sneak inside and wash up," Bran suggested, lifting up onto his elbows, "Before our mothers see us like this,"

That wiped some of the mirth from Tommen's face and he started trying to fix his messy hair as Pounce returned to us. He'd been watched from a nearby tree, reasonably wary when the games got too rowdy for a cat amongst wolves.

"This has been fun Bran," said the prince as they all three walked side by side toward the castle. We wolves hung back, but not by much. Pounce, maybe envisioning a fat mouse to catch and a warm hearth to settle on afterwards, was trotting a little ways in front with his fluffy tail swishing.

"Shame you're going, Tommen," Bran sighed, hands folded behind his head. "If you stayed I could teach you to climb for real." We passed what was called the Broken Tower, which was indeed decrepit and abandoned, as far as I knew. Tommen let his eyes linger on it. Really, it was hard to imagine the sweet but timid prince ever getting as adventurous and fearless as Bran, but hey, if he stayed around long enough, who knew?

The saddest part to think about was that when the royals went back to King's Landing, all my hard work in procuring Bran a friendship would be undone. Unless, of course, they communicated with Medieval AOL.

Hm…Nah. That was way too slow by modern standards. Might as well nail the coffin shut on the friendship if that was all the boys and Myrcella had to stay connected.

I couldn't just let it all fizzle out, I decided as I walked with them back into the castle. Bran, Tommen, Rickon, Myrcella…they all seemed so happy…so free and young now.

But keeping them together may take a scheme beyond what I could do alone. Maybe I should consider involving the others again, like I'd done when I set out to prank Joffrey…

"Hello, boys," a cheerful, familiar voice called. We looked over to see Myrcella making her way down the hall towards us with all the haste her thick dress would allow, gold curls bouncing.

"Cella," Tommen said, bouncing a bit himself. "You're out."

Here the girl's sweet face adopted a gracious pink, before she lifted her chin and a small hint of pride sparkled in her green eyes. "Yes…I…I told the septa I needed to be excused, and I feel awful about saying I was feeling ill. Arya was supposed to help me find my way to the maester, but we…"

My tail wagged lazily as I reappraised the little girl who not too long ago had been her mother's perfect, obedient doll. Well, well, well princess. Welcome to the Club of Corruption. I, The Wolf Formerly Known As Arden, am your host and guide. I thought of giving a mock bow, but maybe considering they didn't know I was taking credit for this deviance that would be overkill?

At any rate, the seeds had been sewn, Myrcella was finding her inner rebel. And as such that meant the children were granted just a bit more time together. The chatter resumed with Myrcella now included, her face shining as the boys recounted how they'd spent the better part of their day.

Gently, she reminded them they had better wash up if they wanted to avoid a scolding (they were sweaty, covered in snow and dirt in places, and really a good scrub wouldn't hurt), and Bran and Tommen scrambled in the direction of their rooms, dragging a reluctant Rickon along. Myrcella, to my amusement, was more invested with staying and playing with us wolves.

And even Shaggy, the wildest, held some curiosity about her too if the way he let her touch his snout without snapping at her hand was any indication. Right before dinner, I worried someone would say something to her, a lone princess playing in the halls with "filthy animals". But I guess maybe she'd been paying attention, maybe she'd asked area, but either way she knew to guide us into a mostly abandoned wing, older and not as well-manned, so she could sit down on the stone floor and pet to her heart's content.

It was heartwarming. Shaggy wasn't as open to snuggles as Summer or I, but he allowed her to stroke his neck at least. And for all the simplicity of it, petting wolf pups, Myrcella appeared to be having the time of her life, gasping and cooing over the texture of our fur, once even glancing around as if to make sure no one was y watching, and then kissing Summer on the nose. Shaggy sniffed at her hair and then drew away with a huff, and Summer curled up and put his head down on her knees.

I had a feeling maybe Robert would approve that even his daughter was embracing the Ways of the Starks for the time being. All I could think about was Cersei, and the face she would make if she saw this, the abject horror. Mm. It didn't matter what ended up being on the table for dinner tonight. My imagination was infinitely more delicious.

I slowly started to back away, Myrcella lifting her face to frown just a little, "Opal," she called, reaching out a palm that promised more petting. "Where are you going?"

I paused, wondering if I could trust Shaggy not to get carried away and take a nibble out of the princess. Normally I wouldn't be sure. But since all seemed well here, I thought it was a good time to step away and check in on the boys.

I hadn't seen them much lately since I was busy cultivating this friendship and all, and really, sometimes I swore Robb, Jon and Theon got up to more trouble than the younger kids ever could. A different sort of trouble. But still trouble that required me to oversee it, and possibly lend a paw.

I barked a farewell at Myrcella, promising to hide near her feet and beg her at dinner (not that she could understand), and turned to bolt.

Shaggy got up and ambled along to match my pace, done with the pets, or maybe just compelled to move around by his wild blood. Summer stirred, he looked at us, squinted his eyes like he thought about joining us, and then he rolled over for a belly rub right there in Myrcella's lap, making his choice.

* * *

I found Jon first. Or it could have been subconsciously I was looking for him the most. I couldn't honestly say. But I found him nonetheless, Ghost was at his side, silent as ever, and Jon was standing with his arms crossed, speaking to Tyrion of all people. By the way it seemed, Tyrion practically leaning forward with a stern expression, the curly-haired boy outwardly bemused, it was more like some kind of inquisition than an idle chat.

I padded over as curiosity pushed me along, stopping short of them. Ghost acknowledged me with a flicker of his eyes, but remained staunchly at his master's side. We were standing just outside the Great Hall, and soon everyone would be filing in for the last big feast with the royal family. My stomach growled low, all the play having worked up an appetite and the burgeoning aromas of fresh baked bread and honey-roasted chicken and platters of spiced fruit on the verge of making me slobber a puddle. Ick, rein that in girl.

"…because you spend your time among wolves more than most, and you seem one of the most observant here, Snow." Tyrion was explaining.

"I still don't follow." Jon said slowly. "Odd behavior…?"

"You're aware they're smarter than any cur could ever be," Tyrion waved the hand holding his wineskin in Ghost's direction. Then he noticed me and froze up, contemplating. "But have you ever thought on some of the old stories?"

"You'd have to elaborate, my lord. Bastards only get to hear some of the stories," Jon smirked wryly. "The ones that don't give us too much hope about rising above our stations."

"Ah," Tyrion took a swig and leaned back against the wall. His voice was low and conspiratorial as he kept speaking, "Then you'd have heard this one. About how long ago, there were said to be beasts who were more man?"

Jon blinked, and I started. Could this be about…could he really have figured me out? Well, reading right in front of him was a gambit, I'd admit. And I should have known he was never as nonchalant as he first came off. But if he had any idea I was trapped. A person in a wolf's skin, how would he go about it? Besides, apparently, grilling Jon.

"It doesn't strike any familiarity I'm afraid."

"Huh," Tyrion eyed me none too discreetly. "Pity." He strutted off into the hall, getting lost quickly among the clamoring and commotion.

Jon looked down at me, a small smile forming, and then he kneeled and took my face in his hands. "You'll be glad too, won't you? When things return to normal around here." I quietly enjoyed the ear rubs he gave, but I had a feeling he was wrong. Call it an animal's intuition but I strongly suspected that just because the king left all would _not_ be returning to normal in Winterfell. Frankly, if my hunch was right it'd be just the opposite.

* * *

Dinner that night wasn't as festive as it was meant to be. Not for me anyway. I sat under the table, my usual spot, thinking on what Tyrion had said to Jon and how he'd looked at me. I doubted he knew I was Arden Stein, twenty-first century girl now lost in a supposedly fictional world who had been living as a direwolf.

But he knew…something. Had a feeling at least. His line of questioning was direct, and if Jon had known anything he was ready to go into detail about whatever theory had been brewing behind that wide forehead.

The worry gnawing at me may have been irrational, because even if Tyrion was getting wise, what could he really do? All I had to do was play the part of clueless animal if he tried to push it and people would assume he was just crazy. Plenty enough of that to go around where it wouldn't be questioned too much. Still, I was thinking about it so much I almost lost my appetite.

Arya's hand (judging by her scent) slipped under the table casually, a bit of chicken pinched in her fingers. I absently licked it up, even the normally savory meat not as appetizing as before.

…What? I said _almost_ lost my appetite! This was an even bigger feast than usual. No way was I about to pass it up because I had a mild case of the blues.

I could hear everyone talking up above, their voices blending together but occasionally a line or two would stand out. Jeyne and Sansa were gossiping, Jeyne living vicariously through Sansa and trying to encourage her to hope she'd get matched with Joffrey.

Arya was fussing at the boys for not having her along on their adventure today. And Rickon was countering that if she wanted to come, she should have snuck out like Myrcella did. Like she usually did.

My ears swiveled here and there as I accepted scraps, even getting to taste the boar meat Robert kicked up a stir about. It was good, gamey and a balance between chewy and tender. My mother would probably faint if she knew I was eating wild pig. But I really saw this being the tastes of my inner wolf coming to the fore.

Dinner went on as the lively event it was, until up at the head of the table Robert bellowed he had an announcement, and soon after the hall grew completely quiet. I popped out of my hiding spot while everyone was looking the king's way, having a feeling I wouldn't want to miss whatever was going to happen next.

"I had thought to join our Houses by wedding Joffrey and Sansa." The king began, and Sansa squirmed in her seat, smiling weakly. While there was no doubt in me she'd still loved to be queen, right now she was weighing that against the indignity of being married to dear Joffrey. Jeyne clapped and squealed in Sansa's stead, but shut up the minute her friend leveled her with _a look_.

"But," Robert continued. "Now after seeing how well they get on, I've decided to have Myrcella wed young Brandon when they come of age."

The sausage in my mouth dropped with a wet plop on the floor. I whipped around, my eyes drawing magnetically to the two in question. Bran's face blanched, some of whatever he'd been drinking falling from his gaping mouth to dribble down his chin.

He started to cough, Rickon patting his back. Myrcella sat up, her eyes wide. And Cersei…oh, Cersei. Her eyes were at first wide with outrage and horror, and then her face was drawn, and I just knew her and Robert would be having it out soon. Probably the minute they stepped outside the room.

Catelyn blinked, looking just as surprised. She turned to Ned with a demanding expression but he glanced at her, silently communicating that he'd explain later. I doubt that appeased her.

This. This was exactly why I hated this time period. Well, I had a stack of other reasons. But betrothals? And especially one between two kids who hadn't even hit puberty! Sure Bran and Myrcella got along but that doesn't mean they should be married. What the actual hell?

"And it's occurred to me that Tommen might gain more, being fostered away from home like I was. So he'll stay in Winterfell, he and his sister. Tonight we feast over not only the Starks, the gracious hosts they've been and will be, but the Baratheons and the Starks growing closer and stronger than ever!" Robert was oblivious to all the turmoil he'd just caused, slamming down a goblet and then raising another that may or may not have even been his. "A toast!" And regardless of the various states of everyone's feelings, they acquiesced to the man's demands and toasted.

* * *

I sat with Grey Wind, Ghost and Summer in the corner, watching Bran fidget and pace in his rooms. Catelyn had ordered her oldest son to go and check in on his brother while the adults talked. For once, I preferred not to be a fly on the wall during whatever major shitfest was going to go down. If stuff started flying, it wouldn't exactly be a safe place to be.

Robb sighed deeply, trying to urge him to sit again. Bran didn't even look like he heard him. "What…what should I do, Robb?" he asked in a small voice. "I like Myrcella. She's nice and she plays games with us, even though she's a princess. But I don't want to…want to _marry_ her."

Theon leaned against the wall, not saying much, but that smirk there nonetheless. Jon being Jon looked genuinely worried, but as an illegitimate son of House Stark he knew as well as everyone else nobody would ever be forcing a marriage on him, so he likely thought it prudent to be silent now.

Robb stood, walking to his brother and wrapping a comforting arm across his shoulders. "I understand. So does Father. The king, though…he's a man that's not use to wanting for anything. If it wasn't Sansa and Joffrey he wanted to see our Houses joined some other way."

"Will I really have to do it then?" Bran's bottom lip quivered. "If I marry, I can't join the King's Guard."

Robb's eyes were distant. I could understand his hesitation to tell Bran all would be well. King Robert struck me as an impatient man use to instant gratification.

He'd already been denied one betrothal with Joffrey and Sansa. And, if I'd heard the whispers in the walls right, he had intended to bestow some high and immensely important position on Ned, but been turned down by his old friend. That had to smart.

The Starks couldn't just keep refusing the king and expect relations not to become strained. Bran probably wouldn't care about any of that though, and I didn't blame him. He just wanted to live the life he'd been living, and keep dreaming his boyhood dreams.

"Bran," Robb sounded tired, and sad for his brother.

"You don't think he will, do you?" Bran's already boyish voice cracked. "Father's going to have me marry Myrc—"

"Marriage to a Southron girl won't be so bad," Theon butt in, "You've at least got a chance she'll look like her mother."

That notion didn't ease Bran's worried face even a little. Jon cut the Greyjoy a glare.

"You've got years, Bran." Robb finally said, squeezing his brother. "It won't be tomorrow. A lot can happen by then."

"Like the marriage getting called off!" Bran got to his feet, a tiny smile on his lips. Summer stood too, going to circle anxiously around his boy.

"I wouldn't—" Jon started to say, but one look at the color returning to his little brother's face stopped him.

"At least Tommen and Myrcella will be staying. I can finally show Tommen how to climb!" he cheered. "And, maybe Myrcella too?" Possibilities more than doubts were now circling through Bran's head, and I guess given the alternative that was…good?

"I'm going to go see Tommen." He darted out into the hall with Summer close. Skidding to a halt, he stopped just long enough to throw a hasty wave at the room. "Thank you, Robb!"

We listened to his feet on the stone, and Theon scoff when we couldn't hear it anymore.

"Nice one, Stark." he mocked. "You've gone and gotten your poor little brother thinking he'll actually have a say someday. Or do _you_ think your lord father will convince the king?"

"He can't and Robb knows that," Jon muttered, defending his brother. He started to push his dark mop of hair behind his ear, out of habit, then paused and let his hand fall when he remembered how much of his curls were gone. "Father's said no to being King's Hand."

"So you've heard as well?" Robb said softly. "I'm happy he and our sisters won't be going off to the capital but that means the king will probably pick Tywin Lannister or someone like that, doesn't it?" The boys stewed over the question for a while.

"Well, Winterfell's going to be home to two royals now. Wonder if the princess will be keeping some of her handmaidens here as well." Theon waggled his eyebrows.

Jon and Robb shared a unified eye roll.

"You boys would do well to seize the opportunity too," he went on casually, "Tonight if you can. I plan to have a grand time before we head out."

"Head out?" Robb repeated, "What do you know that we don't?"

Theon's smile stretched wickedly, his blue eyes all atwinkle. Oh gross, Theon was scheming again.

"Your lord father hasn't told you? Seems he'll be taking a bit of a detour, to accompany his brother back to The Wall."

Jon and Robb exchanged surprised stares.

"And we're the lucky ones who'll be going with him."

I didn't get the sudden shift in mood again (damn, were these some moody boys), but I remembered Jon discussing the wall with his uncle that first night. How upset he'd been. Sounded to me like a road trip was coming up, because there was no way I was going to avoid getting roped along.

* * *

 **So yes, Bran gets to avoid becoming crippled, and yes, Ned turned down going with the king, but that doesn't mean the Starks are safe and all is well. Opal is as always right in the midst.**

 **And someone mentioned how this story seemed so cute and warm. Well, I really wouldn't get used to that. Some of the treachery and danger inherent in GoT is bound to sneak its way into everyone's lives sooner or later.**

 **Thank you to the one guest who gave the suggestion of Ned seeing Benjen back to the wall but taking the older boys with him. I really liked that, so I decided to implement it. Full credit to you for the idea, of course.**

 **Hope to get the next chapter out much sooner, schedule allowing of course.**


End file.
